


Malekith, we want you!

by Wrtfggt



Category: Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Blind Character, But that doesn't make them any less of badasses, Dark Elves, Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, Horrible People, It is Warhammer people!, Kouran is a bro, Malekith finds a soul, Manipulation, Morathi is terrible, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Porn With Plot, Slavery, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21646225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrtfggt/pseuds/Wrtfggt
Summary: Twin sisters, one sorceress supreme from Ghrond, the other- a newly minted Dreadlord with her own Black Ark are burning with ambition. Driven by love and greed the sisters seek to take the most precious treasure of Naggarond- the Witch King’s heart!
Relationships: Dreadlady OC/ WYTCH OC, Lokhir Fellheart/Original Female Character(s), Malekith (WHF)/Morathi (WHF), Malekith(WHF)/Sorceress OC/Dreadlady OC, Morathi (WHF)/Multiple, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sorceress OC/Morathi
Comments: 27
Kudos: 43





	1. Sacrifices in battle of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Rated R for Druchii  
> Enjoy!

In the dark hours of the morning, the winds of Naggaroth washed over the City of the Night, bringing with it the ill-tempered blizzards. Packs of Cold Ones prowled in the wilds, while like a moving mountain, a solitary black ark cut through the icy waves of the Sea of Malice. It’s midnight black sails, tattered and broken. The walls were littered with holes and some of the watchtowers ruined, yet it’s flag, that of Karond Kar billowed proudly in the wind. The lone dreadspear atop of the walls noticed the approaching vessel from his lone guard tower and checked his eyes to see if he was still dreaming of a life as a corsair.

Realizing that this was not a dream, the youth of only sixty years of age rushed over to the signal tower, where already light signals were already flashing, as if greeting an old friend. This was highly unusual as the Witch King’s edicts of naval schedules were to be obeyed under heavy fines and even pain of death if word reached the Black Tower on a bad day.

Rushing inside the door and immediately shutting it behind him, the dreadspear took of his helm and looked at the rest of the signal crew, who were rapidly writing down the signals, while the guard captain was shouting orders.

“I don’t care if they have the fucking Everqueen on board pregnant with the Witch King’s son! The orders are clear and if anyone wants to oppose them, step one sword length forward so that I can cut you down before one of you sends us all to the mines with the apes!” the older elf shouted, one good eye twitching in annoyance. With consummate common sense, the dreadspear slunk back into the background. Watching what would happen next, sometimes there had been tales of a captain meeting their end because they overstepped their bounds and antagonized their comrades too much. Of course, they almost always were punished, but then again sometimes the whole thing was swept under the rug. Anything would have been better than this.

As if his prayers were answered a spectral image of a wounded Dreadlord appeared just next to the captain, sending the man sprawling backwards in panic. The rest too stupefied by the apparition did nothing to approach the fallen elf.

“ _Little to the left, sister_ ” the Dreadlord waved with her remaining hand and disappeared only to reappear with another small blast few feet to the left, so that it was next to the emergency horn- a great and terrible thing wrought with black iron and pulsing with violent magic. Used only the last resort to rouse the Dachau and their master.

This was madness! To sound the emergency horn, would wake the entire city and draw the King himself to them, what were they thinking?

“ _Yes, we’re here._ ”

Suddenly he heard nothing as multiple sounds of popping echoed through the chamber and glass shattered, before they were thrown across the room. Disoriented and afraid, he raised his head only to feel blood dripping from his ears, while the apparition of the Dreadlord bellowed into the gargantuan device.

Not a second later the monstrous wail echoed through the Capital of Naggaroth and the guardsman thought that his poor abused ears couldn’t take it anymore but was quickly proven wrong when the call of the artefact reverberated through his very soul.

Quickly losing consciousness from the close proximity of the horn, the dreadspear thought if he would ever see the light of day again after this was all over.

Across the port tower and the bellowing horn, atop of the command tower of “Silent Terror” arm in arm stood two women. Both were tired and recovering from the injuries sustained on their trek, currently the Dreadlord was resting on torn armchair, while the sorceress stood overlooking the balcony that faced the nearing port.

“Yes! Just dock her already! Who cares if we knock over some merchant’s vessel!” She bellowed and swung the stump where her arm used to be, a cauterized wound wrapped in gauze. It seemed that the loss of her appendage hadn’t doused her character as she still was bellowing into enchanted pendants and posturing around the room like a caged animal. To Contrast her, the sorceress with her golden mask continued to gaze outside.

“Hey, Lelith” the white-haired woman called out to her sister, but the black-haired woman remained silent. She shook her head and approached the sorceress, slinging over her shoulder her mangled limb. Lelith made no move to beat of her sisters’ arm but continued to stare apprehensively into the distance. She made no movement, but the slightest twitch of her fingers and the static electric, she looked into the distance.

“Sister” she trembled “I- I-” the Dreadlady immediately hugged the other woman fiercely and from her belt she clipped off the spyglass and looked straight ahead, at the docks, paling in terror.

“The Black Guard!” the witch gasped and true enough was the statement. There, at the massive end of the boarding ramp, stood a small forest of pitch-black halberds, while a single singular crimson plume, cut through the black and gold, terrifying the eldest of sisters, who, had gone almost pale as her hair. The pendant on her neck called out for her, but the moment she saw riders on their black dragons and manticores surrounding them, silenced all of them, except her sister’s whimpers which grew in power as they neared.

To many, those would have been sounds of pain coming from her body as the Witch King expelled his malevolent might on her.

“AIRENE” the Sorceress called with great anticipation in her voice “IT IS HIM!”

“HIS MAJESTY HAS COME HIMSELF TO GREET US!”

If Airene had been shivering before about the prospect of facing the Right Hand of Malekith, the Dread Black Captain, then now it had turned into a full-blown terror as they would be greeted by the Tyrant. Both knew that his infamous actions hadn’t been just earned by idle boasts and while the commander of the Silent Terror hadn’t had the pleasure to treat with the Witch King herself before, but Lelith had seen him punishing many a treacherous worm and had delighted her sister of extreme cruelties he could inflict on mortal flesh. Some spoke of that this was a curse placed on him by the treacherous Asur when they betrayed him at his coronation, to keep their power.

“Shit” she cursed once more and let go of her wounded sister, almost kicking open the doors and shouting for servants.

After all one didn’t go courting destiny clad only in their battle dresses.

Seeing her sister leave, the sorceress turned her head to the sounds of slaves screaming in pain and her sisters roaring, their laziness had gotten them in trouble again. Shaking her head, Lelith couldn’t fathom why she kept these Asur as slaves instead of the docile and short-lived humans. Brushing imaginary dust off of herself, she reached for her staff, a two-pronged, winged staff, with a harpy for a head. Just before she touched her most treasured weapon, she hesitated.

A moment passed, before she finally grasped the silver rod and turned from the window, sparing one last longing glance at the Witch King. To her, witch sight was a powerful ally and feeling cross, should she not take the most precious of treasures gathered in this expedition, the supreme sorceress followed the trail of magic that led her to the small table next to one ruined couch, where on a pedestal laid a small dark box, inlaid with simple iron, while its contents alone could doom or elevate a brave upstart in the Black Court. Lelith seldom indulged herself, but the box and it’s containers were mysterious indeed. Only thing she knew now were that it should be opened if Malekith himself was present. After all, the sorceress didn’t possess the foresight she once did after that disastrous battle. Humming a tune, she walked to her room, slowly and with measuring steps weaving past her thralls to reach her destination.

Once in her chambers Lelith allowed herself to be disrobed. She took off her cloak and left it laying on her sofa, before snapping her fingers and summoning her finest ceremonial gown. Caressing the soft fabric, she recalled the pride she had felt when their father had given his both daughter gifts of their succession ceremonies. A plume collar of a phoenix, while Airene had gotten a matching dragonskin cloak. Focus Lelith, she tried to motivate herself and donned the collar as more garments flew from the closet. After all, if one met with royalty, one should look as great as one could!

“Sister” a door was bust open and in stumbled Airene, in high spirits- as always. This was one of the things the mage loved about her sister. Hell, or high water, she’d pull through, their breathing, being a testament to her willpower.

“We are about to dock, and you paint yourself more than the Phoenix King himself” she chastised her and Lelith only offered her sister a glance and summoned her staff in her grip. It was unneeded to picture her rolling her eyes as the sorceress knew her all too well.

“Well, it’s a privilege to look good as myself” she shot back, before she heard the Dreadlady’s mirthful chuckle, before patting her on the shoulder with her free hand.

“Come on” she dragged her dark-haired sister by her elbow “we have to make sure his that we are present when we get off this bucket”

Slightly out of breath and terrified out of their wits, the two stood at the boarding corridor with slaves and servants surrounding them, a single Khainite executioner standing to Lelith’s right. Both sisters shivered from anticipation and if anyone wanted to comment something, the large blade of the executioner and the distance that separated all of them was the three lengths of sword and the strict orders.

As the trap descended and light hit both sisters faces, almost instinctively Airene grabbed the sorceress’ elbow closer as across the walkway stood the wall of guardsmen, their pikes gleaming in the sunlight as the small snowflakes danced around them. Their cloaks billowed closer and closer. Just as they were about to meet with their welcoming committee, Lelith hesitated.

“What is it?” Airene whispered pressing her face close to the mask. Behind it she only heard sobs. There were actual tears streaming through the eyeholes of it.

“H-He left Airene” the one of the supreme sorceresses of all Naggarond sobbed “I just felt him lift off and fly back to his great tower.I- I can’t bear this”

“Yes, you can, sister of mine. We lost so much for this and at the cusp of our victory you start to run with your tail between your legs” now it was her turn to fall to hysterics as she growled in her ear.

“Now let’s go and hopefully we’ll fall on our own blades if this falls apart”

With that said, the Dreadlady grabbed the arm of her sister in a vice grip and proudly walked forward, facing Kouran Darkhand and his men, with their procession silently falling in behind them. The dark metal clanged with each step of their boots and the hit of Lelith’s staff that collided with the floor and despite it all, the sorceress and her sister looked proud. Even their death they would face as Druchii, proud and unbent.

They stopped three sword lengths from each other and a single slave bearing their standards walked forth.

“Lady Airene Gloamhart , Dreadlord of the Silent Terror, bid thee welcome, O Captain of the Black Hand himself, most esteemed Kouran Darkhand. With me is my sister, the Supreme sorceress of Ghrond, an apprentice to Morathi herself. We bring our liege and master, husband of Hekharti and Akharti, the Chosen of Khaine and Eresh Khial, favoured son of Cytharai a great bounty- a death of a hated foe and heirloom returned!” Afraid and almost soiling her pants the Asur slave read out loud from the scroll, each syllable that passed her lips full of dread. Having finished the scroll, the tears were streaming from her eyes in full view of the gathered.

Passing her mistress, the slave wanted to say something, but soon found herself unable to as swiftly the silent executioner had parted her head from her shoulders and pushed body overboard, lest it stain his mistress.

“Thank you Drazhar” Airene nodded to the masked elf as she awaited the verdict.

Across them, Kouran raised his halberd once and with a considerable force smashed it into the ground, the force cracking the metal and the action following suit.

“Greetings Dreadlord and Sorceress” the Captain raised his voice so that it carried across the dock like a landslide, leaving no one unsure of what was about to happen

“For the crime of alerting the Black City and it’s satellites, you have been summoned by both Lady Morathi and King Malekith, so that the judgement be passed on you for your foolish actions.” He spoke slowly, voice like boulders, punching the point home. “I suggest you try your luck in convincing our King as failure means execution”

“Not only yourselves, but your entire family, servants and thralls as well”

“Understood” the voice of Lelith cut through the dead silence that had befallen on them. Airene looked shocked at her sister, having gone numb from the terrible words she had heard. Failure would mean death.

For all of them.

The terrible figure of Kouran Darkhand and his elite guardsmen turned, revealing a small path for their entourage.

“Very Well” he nodded and slammed the butt of his halberd once more into the floor.

“Welcome Lady Airene Gloamhard and sorceress Lelith to Naggarond. Don’t keep the King waiting!”

The sisters looked at one another, they were so doomed.

However, when in mortal peril, a window of opportunity is revealed. Mind working in overtime often breaks open paths not tread. This was the exact same situation the sisters found themselves in when they flew the carriage up to the Black Tower of Malekith. Silence reigned in the carriage, mostly because the Captain of the Black Guard decided to ride along with them. They knew that the sisters could have taken their own manticores to ride, but travelling this way was a deliberate measure of control by the Witch King. There was no way of escape and even if they tried, it would be ended swiftly, for all of Lelith’s magical might, she like Airene herself was particularly vulnerable right now and even for all the stuff of legends they had achieved, now they both knew that they were outmatched.

Wind howled outside and the Dreadlady wondered if she would die from her fall or a manticore rider outside would manage to catch her. She spied a glance to Lelith, who stared blankly ahead, a small smirk playing on her lips behind the mask. How did she know? While her younger sister might have been a peerless mage in their age group, she knew precious little of politics and falsehoods. If she would be cruel, then Airene would have described her sister as a hermit.

“We’re approaching the tower” Lelith suddenly spoke up. Darkhand merely tilted his head and banged on the carriage roof once, receiving two thuds in return. The grim warrior shrugged and bit into an apple he had hidden Khaine knew where.

“Huh, some witch you got there” the warrior spoke between bites “for all your magic, you’re blind as a bat”

The sisters didn’t deign to grace him with an answer and merely waited the end of their destination. The rest of the trip, however short it was, was spent in total silence. No one saying a word, except for the Dark Captain knocking at odd times and receiving them seconds later. Naturally they were speaking in code, but now it was the least of their worries. As the carriage wheels hit the black stone of landing area of the Black Tower, they found out that instead of feeling of helplessness they felt even more dread at what was about to happen.

With few slaves carrying their loot, the two were ushered into the grand hall, from where their path lead only up. Through the stairs the sisters were introduced to a variety of blackened skeletons chained to braziers, while a small part of the wall held the names of lost witches, khainite assassins, executioners and those of note, who had fallen in the great war. It was poetic in a way that the Witch King honoured his subjects this way, building onto their sacrifice. With each hundred steps, more Black Guards of Naggarond could be seen to each side, their halberds gleaming for prey. It was useless to pay any attention to them as their guide surpassed them all- in age, skill and the terror he inflicted in the both women.

It was not malice or anything petty like that, what frightened them was Kouran’s single minded dedication to destruction and rumours of his prowess in battle. It was hard to imagine a single frightening opponent for them, apart from Malekith himself and Lady Morathi.

After this long and silent trek the both sisters were standing before the tall onyx door leading to Malekith’s audience chamber. While Airene wondered why it wasn’t the councilroom, where most gruesome of executions had been held, but she guessed their liege wanted to make an example out of them.

“Are you ready sis?” Airene whispered in Lelith’s ear, but instead of words, she hugged her remaining hand hard.

“Good, because I’m not...”

If one had to compare the creak with which the door leading to Witch King’s throne opened, it could be a wail of a long tormented prisoner, who longed for death, yet swung in chains that had long since dug into their flesh and ground away at it till bone.

Inside was different, where they expected sycophants and ambitious nobles, the room inside housed only eight individuals- apart from them, Kouran and the slaves carrying the loot. On his throne sat Malekith, lounging like a hydra in wait for its prey, while on his right stood the Hag Queen, Morathi- clad in black form fitting robes and her own staff in her hands. There was no pleasure in seeing her wayward apprentice, only sadistic amusement of what was about to happen, which contrasted to the cold calculating gaze of the King.

To his left stood the Dachau or the Night’s hand. six fiercest Druchii reigning over the city states of dark elves- Hellebron, the Bride of Khaine, who paid no attention to them focusing on glaring at Morathi, Lohkir Fellheart with his awful squid mask, who waved at Airene in recognition, while from the rest she saw Venil Chillblade, a portly druchii looking disinterested at anything, Drane Blackblood, who was looking at Fellheart with curiosity, Emir Soulflayer, who glared at them balefully and the last one was clad in dark heavy robes, showing their dark violet eyes and a small circlet, belonging that of Ezresor- the spymaster.

With their entry it seemed that the Witch King had become alive. He opened his eyes and through his golden mask, the elfin lord engulfed the room in green glow, before it subsided, leaving his glowing eyes.

“Morathi,” he addressed the sorceress

“Yes, my lord?” she asked and flashed a strange look at Lelith, who had clenched her staff close to herself.

“I thought you taught your pupils better than to carelessly upset the balance of my Kingdom” He rumbled and while the voice was angry and accusing beyond relief, the sisters could imagine how rewarding would it be if that same voice would reward them. The Hag Sorceress flashed a poisonous look at Lelith, who looked as if she would wish to be swallowed up by the floor.

“I must applogize my lord” she did a shallow bow, while keeping her eyes at the two young girls “I will correct this mistake right here and now” the air crackled with electricity as Dhar gathered in Morathi’s staff.

However, before she could cast her spell and doom Lelith to eternity of torment, Malekith raised his hand in a pacifying manner.

“Rest easy Mother” he spoke calmly and the magic dissipated “They will receive what is owed to them” he turned towards the young dreadlord and the sorceress.

“Tell me Dreadlord Gloamhart, Sorceress Lelith of Cabal of Hekharti, what madness possessed you both to wound my guardsmen and sound the horn of last defence? I trust Kouran informed you of these consequences” he continued, flexing and unflexing his gauntleted fingers, eyes boring into Airene’s.

“W-We righted a grievous wrong done to you, o most Righteous of Kings” it was Lelith who spoke, hoping to draw the King’s ire. It seemed to work as the Witch King narrowed his eyes and looked straight at her.

“I won’t suffer masks in here” Malekith spoke with finality “Remove them all”

Even the Dachau looked confused, but during this brief moment of confusion, Airene saw her chance and took it.

“Please King Malekith” she knelt in prostration. Seeing her sister kneel, Lelith followed suit, kneeling, yet still hugging the staff to her chest “Please look at what we bring you and then we will submit to thine august will, my King”

Now the room was completely silent, and the sisters didn’t need to imagine the anger and indignation gathered by those lords. They could picture Soulflayer and Chillblade frothing at the mouth while Morathi would whisper into the King’s ear to kill them. Strangely enough, Malekith himself didn’t show any anger, but naked curiosity.

Taking this as her cue, Airene stood up.

“It is no secret that you have been wronged so many times my King. First by the treacherous princes of Ulthuan, then the dwarves and finally your homeland as well. For all that you gave to Naggarythe, one upstart took it above himself in his misguided quest to kill you and yours, most horrifyingly scarring your mother and taking for his own vile purposes the sole memento Aenarion himself left for her- the Stone of Midnight”

“Impossible” She could hear Morathi speak, but it was not all.

“Yes indeed. To imagine such a vile creature existed!” Airene continued her tale as the servants brought a large black oak box and set it in front of him.

“Your loyal subjects couldn’t let this stand and after centuries of lack of justice- the Shadow King,” she approached the box, undeterred by Kouran’s halberd and rest of the Dachau reaching for their weapons. With one well placed swing, she tore apart the lid of the box with sword and revealed to the world, who exactly had they hunted.

Even Malekith himself rose up from his seat and approached the huge box.

In it laid dozens of elven heads with features of Naggarythe, yet in the middle the most prominent one was that the Witch King had recognized, not merely recognized, but once known and wanted as his own subject. It was the head of Alith of house Anar staring straight at back at him in death.

“Leave us” Malekith thundered and everyone save Morathi, Kouran Darkhand and Ezresor fled the throne room, leaving the six alone in the room. Chillblade and Soulflayer wanted to say something, but hurried outside when Hellebron and the rest followed suit. Last one to leave was Lohkir Fellheart, who flashed Airene a pitying look as he left.

“So ,you have finally put an end to this annoying…pest” why did it seem that Malekith was trying to find the right words. The Witch King bent down and picked up the head by its hair, before throwing it at Morathi.

“I take it that this was the thief” he asked and after receiving mere numb nod as his answer turned back to the two girls that stood there, numb, the head plummeted to the ground and the Witch King didn’t care.

“You have performed me a great service here you two” Malekith addressed the two as he sat back in his throne, not paying attention to the spymaster, who had scuttled nearer to his side.

“For his head alone, the crime is pardoned and your Ark sent to repairs, but before we go any further I wish to see your faces, so I may know which subjects I have to thank” the Witch King said and now both of them knew there was no escape.

Airene took of her half-mask first, revealing a pretty face, marred with no scars and luscious lips. However, Lelith hesitated. She still trembled and hadn’t touched her golden mask and was fidgeting.

“What happened to her?” Malekith asked, having sat up straight and inspecting her sister like a craftsman would a statue. the Dreadlady swallowed spit in her throat and answered where the sorceress was too afraid to.

“She was captured by the Shadow King when we tried to find him” she spoke softly and spared her sister a pitying glance. Even for all his mercilessness and iron fist it seemed that even the Witch King had sympathy.

“Come here” he beckoned with an outstretched gauntlet. The sorceress nodded and started to hobble in her King’s direction, leaning heavily on the staff. the white haired woman noted with narrowed eyes that Morathi had done very little to help, but stood there as her sister suffered.

Yet Malekith always surpised her expectations. Here he was, the fiercest and most terrifying Elf to live after Aenarion, who was known for his midnight black armour and foul temper, had just removed his glove, revealing his horribly burned hands approached the sorceress.

Almost gently, he removed the golden mask from her face and while Ezresor, Morathi turned away in disgust, Malekith brushed away the tears that fell from her empty eye sockets.

“What did she do to deserve this done to her” the Witch King asked quietly, it was Airene who answered

“Her eyes looked like yours, my King”

“My King” it was Lelith’s voice which turned Malekith back to his subject “I know I’m hard to look at, I have but one gift remaining”

She gently pried the armoured giant’s burnt hands from her cheeks and turned to Morathi. The Supreme sorceress did a shallow bow to her former teacher and retrieved a small velvet bag from her belt.

Like sent by a gust of wind it was sent straight into Morathi’s waiting palms, who deftly opened the small bag and put her hand over her mouth. Tears too welled in her eyes and Airene thought that she had had enough earth-shattering discoveries made one day, when it was Lelith who surprised her next.

“My king, my lord” she spoke having grabbed the Witch King’s hands with her own. Completely oblivious how the situation appeared from other points of view, she ignored all warning signs any god had shown her and continued her earnest plea.

“When I signed my wows to become a sorceress, you took all of us brides by the right of Hekharti. While in your nature you haven’t shackled us to yourself and let us be free of fates that plague most women in our lands” Now Malekith looked stupefied and Morathi ready to go on warpath, while Kouran had a slack look on his face. This was going to be a disaster

“Please make me a true bride of yours!”

If they would live through this, Airene swore that she would kill her sister.


	2. Heart of thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her heart bared, the sorceress has to bear the chance of rejection if she wishes to get her wish.  
> However, her sister has to face her own challenges to claim the Witch King's boon.

“Please make me a true bride of yours”

This was the second time in a single day the throne room had been silenced. All with the incredibly reckless plea of a sorceress millennia too young to even dare look at the Witch King. Obviously drunk on the state propaganda and fantasies of the great sorcerer king, the chit expected it to end in a fairytale with flowers and power. She had seen these women times and times again. Looking to his greatness to use it for themselves and abandon him when it no longer suited them. There was a reason the chambers reserved for the concubines was empty in the palace, as it was her duty to keep him safe from those that would use him. The blind girl and her glory hound of a sister was no different and Morathi hoped that Malekith was wise enough to realize the warnings early on. After all, she didn’t want to have a repeat of Allisara.

So, the Hag Queen watched with quiet indignation the scene play out before her, hand on her staff, fully intent on disposing the upstarts. However, they had killed Alith Anar and returned her the Stone of Midnight. This might stay her hand if her son chose to be foolish enough to let them inside the fortress, he called a heart.

“I am afraid that I misheard your plea, will you repeat it?” the Witch King asked locking his gaze, where the sorceress’ eyes should have been. The smile immediately vanished, replaced by a grimace that most likely had been replaced by fear. For whatever courage she might have mustered in that moment seemed gone, replaced by the fear and awe being in her idol’s presence.

“Y-your most august H-highness” she trembled, immediately retracting her hand from his and subconsciously putting her staff between them. Yet when she needed her words the most, her mouth failed.

“Your Majesty” this was Airene who came in her sister’s defence, arrogant and entitled beyond belief to be able look the Witch King in the eyes without fear.

“My sister wishes you would honour your wows to her and take her as yours in whatever capacity she can serve you outside her role of mystical arts” she spoke clearly and unflinchingly, not turning away from the smouldering stare Malekith visited on her. His golden facemask was unreadable as ever and there nothing betraying his stance.

When he spoke next, the King of Druchii was clear “I asked not for your interpretation of your sisters wishes or do you believe her to be incapable of voicing her own wishes?”

“No, I do believe her to be capable, however, these past events have left her somewhat shaken and this just proves her strength of will to stand before you after the tortures the Shadow King inflicted on her, proving her elven spirit of perseverance.” This was her reprieve as she crossed her arms above her chest, resisting the urge to wildly gesticulate as all were aware of Malekith’s cold judgement.

The King turned away from her and focused once more on her sister, who had somewhat regained her composure and faced their liege bravely.

“Is it mercy you expect from me?”

“Only the thing which is owed.”

“I see” With these words, the Witch King turned from her and paced around the room, like a Cold One stalking its prey. He came once more upon Airene and his hand was once more wrapped in black iron, scratching his golden chin as if deep in thought.

“It is clear what you wish of me, alas I do not know what is that you wish, Lady Gloamhart. Do you wish for the seat at Drachau or my hand as well? There is much I can give you” There was no insult in the last part, but only curiosity. Airene now was immediately on guard as this was not what she had expected what would happen next. She half expected him to belittle them, offer some convoluted way to trap them and thwart their efforts as some sadistic cautionary tale.

Tension in the room was almost palpable, only Kouran Darkhand remained his disinterested self, while Ezresor had moved to the thrones left side, fidgeting in his robes, for a split second revealing a shape of scabbard that told the Dreadlady everything she needed to know. Morathi, on the other hand was as calm as the spymaster, but the King’s mother’s face radiated curiosity.

“For your sacrifice and effort in this expedition, I could give you the most chaste of captured Asur as your slaves, pay you your crews weight in gold, crown you Drachau of any City should you wish it all that and more”

However, the warrior elf sensed that there was much more to his offer than it seemed.

“But” there it was “There are limits in my generosity and if I bestowed such favouritism upon you two, some would try to repeat your exploits, would see it as weakness on my part”

“I can fulfil your wish, Lady Airene Gloamhart and make your dreams, but nothing in this world comes free and this wish would come at the cost of your sisters.”

The world seemed to stop and Airene could see Lelith looking at her with desperation. She had seemed so close, but now it was all being undone, how could her own twin do this to her? Easily, but at a great expense. She could become the Drachau and replace her family’s greatest enemies, securing their rule over Clar Karond for ever, but she would lose her sister. Lelith, despite her hermit nature would understand. After centuries of pain and silence she would understand that it was for her own good.

“What is your wish, Dreadlady of Silent Terror?” Malekith asked and Airene had her answer then and there.

“Your Majesty, most august and greatest son of elven kind” she bowed deeply “Most ardently I wish that you would honour my sisters wish and take her as your own.”

It was a terrible quirk of hers to always spoil her sister.

She looked at her sister, who with barely hidden glee was clutching the staff with her both hands as most both Morathi and Ezresor had their eyes wide, betraying their true emotions as the rest of their faces remained as if cut in stone.

Yet Malekith and Kouran were both alive with mirth. The Witch King clapped and clapped with unhidden glee, while the Black Captain, while not smiling, with some cheer tapped the Red Death on the floor couple of times.

“Such loyalty” the armoured figure praised and turned back towards his throne and beckoned Lelith, who followed him with an almost spring in her step “Very well, but know that the enemies I have in Ulthuan are not the only ones I possess and they will use whatever weakness they can to weaken me”

“Thank you, your highness” Airene bowed shallowly, refusing to wipe the smile off her face as she saw her sister follow the sorcerer.

“You can count on us King Malekith!” Lelith said as she stepped next to Morathi, who oblivious to the younger sorceress was everything, but pleased with the arrangement.

“Yes, you **have** shown to be more dependable than the rest of my servants” he said, reclining in the dark metal throne, resuming his position as indolent overlord, but everyone in the room knew that it to be a ruse.

“Lady Gloamhart?”

“Yes, my King?”

“How did you lose your hand?” It was now Airene’s turn to blush and sputter as Lelith explained it in her stead.

“She lost her hand, when she decapitated the Shadow King”

“Oh really?” Malekith asked, looking at the black-haired twin, who nodded happily, a wide bloodthirsty smile on her black lips.

“Then I should have my priests forge you a new hand” he jested “So that you may repeat this success”

“I’d be only honoured my lord” Airene bowed again with as much as grace she possessed, but the Witch King wasn’t done with her.

“Splendid” he spoke and nodded towards Kouran, who stepped forth and walked across the room and drew his sabre from underneath the sheath on his hip and settled into his stance.

“Now that I knew that it was your hand that slew the last of House Anar, I regret making you choose between you and your twins future wishes, so I give you a chance to rise higher in my esteem.”

“Is this some kind of a sick joke?” the Dreadlady cursed and drew her own sword in her whole hand and pointed it the Captain, who shrugged and rolled his shoulders before pulling switching the blade to his left hand.

“What kind of a reward would it be if I killed you” the other elf asked and cracked his neck side from side.

“Indeed, you only have to draw blood from Kouran to be granted the post as the Drachau of Clar Karond, but that is an impressive task by itself” the Witch King said, before drawing his own blade

“In your current state I believe this blade will suit you better.”

It was unbelievable, that the King himself would offer his personal enchanted blade to help her win the fight against the legendary warrior, but there she realized the hidden test. The patronizing look Morathi sent her didn’t help at all, while Lelith’s concerned look was the only reason why she would take the blade.

Yet she wasn’t a Dreadlady for nothing. Druchii pride and arrogance excelled in her veins and to imply she was weak was a death sentence for whoever thought that.

“I’ll manage” she growled and settled into her own stance. Blade raised in an angle to block an incoming attack coming from the right. Across her, the immovable object in her ascent to glory waited patiently for his master’s call. On his face not a muscle twitched and Airene knew that this would be the hardest fight she would face, maybe even harder than Alith Anar as she didn’t have her sister guiding her.

As the time slowed to a crawl and tension gripped her muscles, she, waited as well. King Malekith took them in his sight with mild interest and snapped his fingers once.

Immediately, the Black Captain sprang into action, dashing at her with an overhead sweep. Instead of ducking Airene thought quick on her feet jumping past it, only to be hit by an elbow. She stumbled couple of feet away, managing only to raise her blade back in time to block a slash.

Panting heavily from the weight of the strike, the amputee pushed the sword sideways and dodged the incoming foot.

“Not bad for only one arm” the man said with no signs of tiredness and Airene couldn’t help but throw back

“I could say the same for you”

This proved to be a mistake as Kouran Darkhand was not fan of battlefield banter as once more he exploded in whirlwind of violence and steel, right hand still behind his back. However, this time the Dark elf had adapted his style towards more stabbing and feints, becoming nimbler on his feet. He had become so fast, so fast, in fact, that she had troubles keeping up with his strikes as they intentionally missed most of her, leaving only light scratches.

Hissing with pain the white-haired woman struggled to even land a clean hit as Kouran was merciless. Her arms hurt, while her sides and shoulders bore signs of his meticulous handiwork.

“Bastard” she hissed and weaved under a low cut intended to split her entrails and aimed a kick at his shins, blocking it with his sword, almost lazily. Seeing her chance, Airene cut at him, only to be blocked once more. Her angry black eyes bore into his violet ones and just when it her opponent expected this to be the last of her strength, she the Black Captain with another weak kick, which seemed to amuse him.

However, his amusement didn’t last, when the Dreadlady rammed her stump of an arm straight in his face. The warrior was surprised, but not deterred as in the very same moment she felt the cold steel of the blade make a shallow cut in her neck.

“Surrender” the elf growled and received only a mocking smirk in return.

“I believe it is too late for that” she said, smirking as she wiggled her bound stump at him. On the bandaged limb fresh bits of blood could be seen. With eyes widening, the captain touched his face and felt the crimson drops running down his nose. Incredulously, he withdrew his sword and turned to the Witch King, who tilted his head, asking if this would be counted.

“She did make you bleed, albeit not like you expected, but I never said that you had to cripple yourself like that, old friend” Malekith spoke and the woman looked at her sister, the sorceress was beaming next to Morathi, who eyed her like a snake. Airene grinned at the prospect of besting the expectations of the Hag Sorceress.

Breathing deeply, the elfin woman felt vindicated, despite the small injuries suffered in this test. Having lasted long enough to win by a technicality against such an opponent was all that she had ever wished for. The Dreadlady hoped that it was enough for their king, who had put her through so many hoops today to test her.

“Congratulations lady Gloamhart” Malekith commended her and turned his attention back to Kouran “I trust that you have learned your lesson?” he asked the man, who had wiped off his face and returned the halberd back to his hands and was looking at the woman who beat him with immense distaste and some odd sense of acknowledgement.

“Yes, sire” Darkhand grumbled and the Witch King snapped his fingers. With no hesitation the guards guarding the door, pulled them open and immediately Lelith reached for her mask, only to be stopped by Morathi, who grabbed the young womans arm and whispered something in her ear, apparently soothing her.

Airene didn’t know what it was, but she made it her mission to learn just what the sorceress had said to her twin.

The throne room filled with the lords of Malekith’s cities, chattering among themselves and looking more like a band of schoolgirls, not some of the most devious and dangerous dark elves alive. Hellebron looked almost too comfortable, chattering with Drane Blackblood like old friends, while Lohkir Fellheart stood solitary as Soulflayer and Chillblade conversed in hushed tones.

Once they all had settled in with a heavy creaking the door were shut once more. Immediately they acknowledged the change in the room and immediately the youngest of the Drachau were drawn to the box of heads in before the throne and the bloodied Dreadlady, while the more experienced ones looked at the blinded sorceress next to Morathi, whom now had an azure stone in shape of a tear fastened around her neck.

First one to speak was Chillblade, who was looking at the box of heads.

“Why someone did ahead of themselves” he said with a small laughter echoed by Soulflayer, but his was more of tired and grim sounding, quite complimenting his scarred image.

“Hellebron” the Witch King addressed the Priestess of Khaine who had walked over to look at the severed heads, a frown on her aged face. Malekith having noticed the reaction beckoned her forward

“What do you remember of your father, Alandrian?” The Witch King asked and the Bride of Khaine froze momentarily before asking

“I am afraid I do not remember much. Few scraps then and there, he liked to tell about his adventures with you in the Old World, my liege” the priestess took another look at the heads and then back at Malekith, confusion evident on her face.

“Look at the crowned head atop of the pile and ask the traitor what happened to Alandrian” Malekith spat and it shocked Airene to see just the normally bombastic woman pale as she looked at the white-haired head of Alith Anar.

“My lord” she trembled with barely contained rage, that could be seen as her fingers twitched, just out her twin blades’ reach.

“You can have his head, I believe it will prove to be of some solace to you, Hellebron. Have I not cared for you as if you were my own as I promised your mother?” The Witch King asked as the crone knelt down to grab the head.

“No, my King. You have delivered justice upon my family I-”

“It was not I who killed him” Malekith shook his head “Dreadlord Gloamhart killed him with her sister at a great personal expense”

“What?” was the shout of Lohkir Fellheart, who now looked out of place, the newly minted Drachau of Karond Kar, with his flamboyant armour and helmet. Airene supposed he had never forgiven her that she snubbed the engagement proposal from his family. She saw his eyes glued to the bloodied stump, but then immediately jumped to her blinded sister and for a moment some shade…of regret pass in his eyes, but that ship had long sailed.

Hellebron didn’t thank her verbally, but her stare did enough. The Dreadlady nodded gently in her direction and sheathed her sword. Without a word, the Bride of Khaine grabbed the head and walked back to her designated place, before bowing towards Malekith, who acknowledged her with a slight tilt of his head.

“As the reward for this service to the realm I have deemed fit to gift her a position in the city of Clar Karond as it’s Vaulkhar-” Malekith spoke, but a whisper in his ear from Ezrasor made the king’s armoured form pause, only to correct himself a minute later.

“-as it’s Drachau.”

“What is the meaning of this?!” Chillblade raised his voice and everyone looked at him like they had Lohkir, unstable and on verge to receive the Witch King’s wrath.

“Me and my family have served your grace for millennia, without fail we have upkept the greatest shipyards in the world and yet you would give the city to some minor Dreadlord whose only achievement of note is killing a single reb-”

Surely the worm wanted to finish the word rebel, but before he could finish, he had already drawn his sword as Hellebron had reached one sword distance from him with her blades drawn and eyes ablaze with fury.

“Stand down” hissed the Witch King and the Drachau of Clar Karond was about to thank his liege, when he collapsed on the ground choking as Malekith’s eyes glowed emerald.

“Faithfully you say?” He barked and the spymaster handed him a stack of parchment hidden underneath his robes and the enraged Witch King grabbed the reports and threw them at the suffering elf.

“Then why despite my support and subsidies my fleet increases ever slowly, and your expenditures rises atronomically each year? Do not lie to me or I will see you live long enough to regret it. In your grandfather’s time the port flourished like never before and I listened enough of his last will to elect your father- the port then did not suffer, but with you…” The Witch King trailed off and motioned to Airene.

Now this was familiar with her. Deftly she drew her blade and approached the fallen governor. It sickened her that weaklings could reach such high stations by nepotism itself, but she had to admit that the worm had a sense of duplicity to keep the Witch King in the dark for so long. But that was preposterous as Malekith knew everything and what happened here was him finally finding a capable enough successor for the worm. Like a dagger dragged across sacrifices throat, the Dreadlady glided to the elf and upon closer inspection found him even more wanting.

What muscle he had gained in his obligatory raids was fattened up and degraded, leaving only a robust figure that could intimidate those smaller. With the enormous profits of the port city it was undisputable that he commanded great influence, which undoubtedly made him so untouchable despite his corruption. For all bad things that could have been said about the Witch King, being wasteful and inefficient wasn’t one of them.

Having approached her predecessor and victim to be, Airene looked in his eyes and whereas his sought mercy and understanding, the Dreadlady saw her path to power.

The trash tried to crawl away from her, but the newly designated Drachau of Clarond Kar would not be denied and her sword found his throat. Then the tiles ran red with a bloody blade and her victim stood Lady Gloamhart, who had just come into her new position as a proper Druchii should- with blood and blessing of Lord Malekith

“Lady Gloamhart” Malekith addressed her as she wiped the blood on the corpses cloak “I congratulate you on your succession of late Venil Chillblade, the Master of the Black Fleet, Warden of Clarond Kar”

“But what about the people loyal to him?” she asked and instead of him, the shadowy figure in robes answered.

“As soon as the Witch King gave you this opportunity our agents in the city started the purge and the Black Guard controls the Tower of Dread”

Oh Khaine, they were serious. They were truly serious.

Airene smiled and sparing a gaze at her twin, she saw the blinded sorceress smiling back. Morathi showed no emotion, same as Kouran and Ezrasor, but Malekith, the Witch King had his gaze on her, but she couldn’t decide whether or not it was a bad thing.

The new Drachau of Clar Karond hoped that she would find out soon.


	3. Into the Witch King’s court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her sister crowned the head of a city state, Lelith remains alone in the grim palace of the Witch King with his mother for company. Blind she may be, but she is still a sorceress. However, there is only so much one can see with Witch Sight.

“I must congratulate you” came a whisper in Lelith’s ear and the young sorceress supreme knew just who it was. the Husky voice needed no introduction, no fanfare and who else could have it been than the ruler of Ghrond, the King’s mother herself, Morathi.

“To kill Alith Anar, avenge so many of Malekith’s most loyal supporters and d return to me a gift from my dearly departed husband. You have made quite the impression of us both” she spoke sweetly, and the sorceress felt her ears burn at the praise. Of all sorceresses apprenticed underneath Morathi, Lelith knew that she was not the most powerful or ruthless, but this recognition after all the trials and tribulations did wonders for her. While she was blind to the material world, through witch sight she could see, and the loss of eyes almost seemed worth it in the reveal.

“I hope it is a good one”

One without the affinity of magic would have noticed only the throne room’s brutal, yet majestic aura, but those blessed with magic saw the true throne room. Normally desolate walls were alive with magic, praising and cursing the Witch King. Around the normally desolate floor, where the deceased Chillblade’s corpse lied, now stood his terrified spirit, looking down at himself.

The spirit let out a horrible scream at his fate and she turned to Morathi merely continued to stare past the spirit and instead focused on the King, who paid no attention to the tortured spirit. With morbid curiosity, Lelith watched the spirit of the dead, who was now being dragged through the floors by spectral hands. She flashed a look at Malekith, who returned his gaze, albeit briefly before continuing to heap praise upon her sister.

She was not supposed to feel jealous, but deep in her heart she wished that he would praise her as well. Although, she was going to be his bride rather than a Drachau and that in her opinion it was a much higher honour. As for the disembodied spirit that had been trapped into the very tower, she would have to ask about it later. Were the spirits who wandered the halls, stuck in time, his favoured subjects? Would this fate become her own?

From the dark pacts she had made, the sorceress thought that maybe it would have been even better if this would be her fate. However curiously she noted that none of the spirits paid attention to the Witch King, busy in their own affairs, there were gilded corsair lords mingling with sorceresses and Drachaus of the past laughing with merriment, however rare it was, for the tapestries of suffering weaved in the black stone were clearly far more abundant.

So stuck she was in her own little world and theories about magic that she noticed that the ceremony had been over and everyone left, when Morathi had put her hand on her shoulder, brushing her Phoenix collar.

“I take it that you were entranced by what happened to poor Venil over here?” the sorceress asked as she led the younger woman out of the throne room. Vigorously nodding, Lelith shot a faint smile at her companion

“Yes, that would be most illuminating, my Lady”

At this the King’s mother let out a giggle, before stifling it with her hand “Oh, no child” she said “Call me Morathi, since we will be spending a lot of time together”

“It will be my pleasure, Morathi” Lelith smiled broadly, before putting her hand out as if trying to sense the air. Focusing on her magic sight, she tried to find Malekith, but the Witch King was far from her already gone along with his Captain and Ezresor to who knows where, probably facilitating Airene’s new domain and all the manoeuvring to come with it.

While she hadn’t seen her, Lelith had felt her twin’s joy through magic and it was enough for her.

“Where are we heading now?” she asked her and the Hag Queen was more than happy to explain it to her “Well, you see while Malekith did accept you as his bride, the King feels that for now you should live on the floor reserved for his concubines”

“Concubines?”

“Why, yes, before his unfortunate imprisonment in the Realm of Chaos, my son had quite the collection of maidens and sorceresses at his disposal. However, they…abused…their status” she explained to the alarmed girl, but there was something else about the way the woman phrased the sentence. Lelith had to know after all she was now one of them. Hopefully not for long.

“How exactly they abused his trust if I may ask…” she trailed off and mesmerized herself as they walked across a staircase full of walls covered in living paintings, commemorating the Elven race and their successes, however most notably Aenarion and Malekith himself were the centre of many paintings. It was no secret that the King loved his father dearly.

“It was a torrid affair. Some took other lovers; men mind you and brought them in these very halls for their business while others fled to pursue others of their free volition. Of course, they ran back the second my son returned” the emotions coming from Morathi were far from noble and despite not being a mother she could understand them. How did these women dare to abandon the greatest man they could achieve in their insipid lives? The thought of it made her blood boil in her veins.

“What happened to these…women?” Lelith paused to keep the anger out of her voice, while she and the King’s mother passed a mural depicting Malekith’s friendship to the Dwarf King Snorri Whitebeard, while in the background lurked treacherous envoys of Bel Shanaar.

Morathi smiled “They and their lovers were dealt with”

“Good riddance” the younger sorceress said and their walk continued in silence with the sorceress expanding more on her witch sight to see the whatever else the Witch King had hid from the rest of the world.

After flights of stairs, where she almost tripped, only to be held up by her mentor, the two women came up before a set of ornate doors, guarded by two marble dragons with emeralds for their eyes. Seeing the pair, the dragons raised their claws to pounce, but the glow on one of Morathi’s rings made the beasts bow respectfully and let the sorceresses pass undeterred.

“It’s a shame you cannot see this” the Hag Queen commented as they stepped onto the plush carpet of the room. The younger woman shrank as once more her witch sight proved nigh useless as she saw nothing. Once more vibrant paintings of pure magic were replaced by pitch black darkness, only the King’s mother guiding her.

“Indeed, but can you describe it to me? While I lack my sight there is only so much that I can see” she asked and was surprised when the older elf suddenly grabbed her hands and touched her own face with them.

“What do you feel?” she asked and Lelith instinctively started touching and searching their face, feeling the smooth skin and impeccable features she remembered. However, the hag sorceress wasn’t done yet. With her gentle hands Morathi removed them from her face and guided the younger woman across the room. Her hand now touched a warm door handle and she could hear the hag sorceress whispering in her ear.

“The handle is of the door that leads to the main chamber where Malekith would summon all of his concubines for pleasure’’ she explained, and the young sorceresses mind was now full of visions. Flesh of naked supplicants that writhed like snakes with the Witch King in the middle with his chiseled physique, yet with his great horned helm on his head. She imagined herself as one of them, feeling his touch, while holding onto the antlers of the helm as he tore into her. Immediately she felt her cheeks burning and immediately she released the handle as if burned.

“Oh, there is no shame in feeling desire there” Morathi commented as Lelith held her hand, trying not to dwell further in her desires. Both women were no strangers to the carnal pleasures, but the younger one wanted to at least keep them hidden from her, especially as she was the mother of the subject of her fantasies.

“However, I fear that there won’t be such times ever again after his return” the Hag sorceress spoke, sadness now clear in her voice “The Realm of Chaos changed our King and we both know how insidious the forces of Ruin are”

“How so?”

With a hand on her shoulder the woman was about elaborate further, but with a crack of thunder the door behind them opened in a wide swing. Instinctively feeling the high power of magic Lelith glanced back only to freeze as like a barely contained storm the Witch King strode into the room, accompanied by two more pair of steps.

“Mother” came the slow rumble from the Witch King’s throat as two familiar thuds of halberd butts slamming into the ground indicated that he had brought with himself two of his guardsmen and one of them probably was Kouran himself as he was one of the few the Witch King trusted.

“While it fills my heart with joy that you want to spend more time with your future daughter-in-law, but I would like to know her better alone. You will have your chance later” Malekith spoke and there was little warmth in in it. Did they have had a falling out? Lelith wondered to herself. Maybe it had happened during those decades of her trials that she had spent away from the world, sequestered in her own little realm in her tower.

While deep in thought, she felt herself enveloped in a great hug, head pressed against the elder sorceress’ chest.

“It seems my son wishes you all for himself today, but we shall have grand time together sometime, if he will let you out of his sight for a moment”

“I am still here Mother” came the growl to which Morathi replied with sensuous laughter

“Oh, I know dearest” she let Lelith go and through her witch sight, the younger woman could see the sorceress leave, briefly touching his chest plate in a familial gesture. Behind her the two guards had turned around to escort Morathi out, as was evident by the sound of the door closing just after their departure.

Which just left the two of them. Her and Malekith…

“Your g-grace…” the sorceress stuttered and if the King showed it then it wasn’t noticeable through his magic as he still shone as brilliantly ever, though, she did feel the touch of his hand.

His blood and flesh hand.

The hand brushed away stray strands of hair she hadn’t noticed and just by feeling his touch, her face lit itself on fire.

“Do be careful around my mother” he cupped her chin and now she was truly blind it was like staring in the sun “While she means the best for me, her ideas of helping are…misguided”

Lelith smiled and shook her head lightly “She was very helpful in guiding me here as you were busy with Airene’s new position.”

“Yes, if this wing wasn’t to be rebuilt into a private gallery” the King’s free hand flew back and while she couldn’t see it, she felt multitude of magical objects in the following rooms.

“Maybe she didn’t know about it” she supplied helpfully and her intended waved his hand again, closing the door.

“Perhaps, but I believe it is time to show you to your accommodations, shall we?” he offered his hand and Lelith took it with as much of grace as she could, of course internally she was screaming with joy.

In comparison with Morathi, her son was far different. Where she was cheerful and chatty, the King was silent and dour. The entire time they spent walking towards her new residence, Malekith had not uttered a word, merely tucked her hand in his elbow. Lelith wondered what he was thinking, but she realized that never she would know his mind. He was truly a singular being in this world, marks of failed conquest and tribulations bearing marks on his very soul, but where others would have faltered, Malekith marched on. This spite with what he marched onto battle with no hesitation, if even the warp couldn’t break him, then what would?

Immediately Morathi’s words came back to her mind, saying that he had changed. Just how had he changed while trapped in that nightmarish realm? What horrors had he endured? What aberrations he had laid his eyes upon? Haunted by the thoughts of her King’s wellbeing she slunk deeper into her thoughts, not even noticing they had stopped and was heading straight into the door, only to be stopped by Malekith’s grip.

“What?” she asked and the Witch King, knocked onto the wooden surface, making the smaller woman drawn into herself in little embarrassment.

“Before you apologize” he said “One does not become accustomed to being blind in few days”

Then he opened the door and ushered her inside. Immediately her nose was hit by foreign herbs while her witch sight went haywire, as like the darkness before her was washed away by myriad of colours. Trinkets and baubles, even the hunting trophies mounted to far away wall reeked of magic.

Lelith was so enchanted by the various magical devices, that she scarcely noticed that Malekith was leading her through the room towards another. She only noticed that something was amiss when she was pushed into a plush sofa that felt much too large for her. Then beside her she felt the cushion wobble and satin brush against her naked ankle. Now the young woman realized that she was alone with him, on a couch in a room with just the two of them. It was enough to send heat flushing down her body.

“Why did you pick such a foolish wish?” he asked, and she once again feel cold of winter chill her to the very core.

“Why is it foolish?” she asked back, horrified that he still didn’t take her seriously, after all she had gone through!

“Have you ever bid words with me in private? Laughed and cried with me through triumphs and failures? Or is it that you only seek me for whatever fantasies you have conjured of me in your mind? I would be so cruel to suggest that you only seek power, but those with such lusts are slow to sacrifice themselves for their goals”

It was true. Lelith sat there mortified at the thought of him regarding her wish as false. While, yes, she fantasized about him, nightly even, but that was no reason to disregard her feelings for him. Yes, she didn’t know him, but she wanted to! How could have she approached Malekith if he was sequestered away in his palace with Morathi eying her son like a hawk.

“No, but you would be blinder than me to dismiss my affections as those of power and fantasies.” she answered, and the Witch King didn’t stay silent.

“So, you believe me a prize for slaying Alith Anar like from some children’s tale taught at a parents lap?” his tongue oozing with venom countered.

“Is it so hard to believe that I have loved you from the moment I saw you?!” the sorceress almost shouted as her staff fell to the floor, energies of magic hissing at the disrespect.

“Yes” was Malekith’s single answer and she saw him rise from the sofa, intending to leave. Tears threatened to stream from the sockets where her eyes used to be, but she refused. Lelith wanted to prove it to him that she loved him, she needed to. She had to!

“Do you remember seventy-three years ago I became a sorceress supreme?” the elf asked and watched him take his first step out of her life.

“I remember and I am thankful I had had my eyes to see you then” Lelith spoke now uncaring that her tears were flowing freely “You, who have guided our people to glories and miracles unseen after our terrible losses and repaid each and every wrong to the sorceresses sent to the savages north”

“You, who has triumphed over hardships gods send to test us. You, who work tirelessly so that we return to the sun kissed shores of Ulthuan as the victors” she wouldn’t crawl, but if it was needed for him to listen to her.

“King Malekith” the desperation was palpable in her voice “You have a beautiful heart and even with these scars you carry I wish them to be eased. Even if I have to sacrifice myself to do it. I already gave my eyes, so that your mother would smile, my sister gave a hand of hers so that your fallen may know peace”

She paused trying to find the right words to move his heart

“Tell me what else I have to give to you to see that I am true in my affections for you my lord and master?”

With dread she waited his next steps, but instead heard only silence, her witch sight gone dark. Fearfully she watched for any signs of him, not wanting to believe that her lord had abandoned her so easily.

“Malekith?” she cried out aloud, her tears still falling as her head darted from side to side seeking her intended, but she saw none lick of magic. So, he truly had left. Had he not been moved by her confession and explanation?

“Malekith, are you still here?” Lelith asked to the air, the darkness within her mounting. So, it truly was worthless, wasn’t it? Were her eyes, which had enchanted many of her fellow students, nothing in his eyes. While she didn’t show it, the sorceress remembered the dagger creeping into her vision, the pain, the darkness that loomed in hearts of every sorceress was made manifest in a crushing weight upon her shoulder.

“I-I-…” she trembled, reaching for her knees and hugging them to her chest “I j-just w-wanted you to l-love me in return”

The blinded sorceress cried and cried until a hand grasped her chin suddenly and lifted it up.

“Convince me” was the deep rumble of Malekith and her only answer was to leap straight into his arms and touch her lips to his. As flesh met flesh and her breasts pressed against scarred skin, she realized that he was not wearing his armour.

Last thing Lelith Gloamhart heard before the darkness claimed her was the sound of the Witch King calling her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave a comment so that I may improve. Have a nice day!


	4. Chapter 3: Right of a hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Lelith alone with the subject of affection, Airene gets another gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, anyways enjoy!

**_Malekith, we want you!_ **

**_Or how young upstarts ended up in more trouble than expected._ **

**Warning: Rated R for Druchii**

**Disclaimer: If I did own GW, I wouldn’t be writing this**

**Chapter 3- Right of a hand**

When Lelith was ushered away by the Hag Queen of Grond, it took considerable strength of will from Airene to remain in place. While her sister remained oblivious of the sorceress true nature, the new Drachau of Clar Karond had listened to rumours long enough to know that the Witch King was not the only one of the dangerous elves in the Lands of the Druchii. Long was the reach of Morathi and with rumours circulating her relationship with the King, Lelith was maybe in more peril than when they hunted Alith Anar.

Chillblade’s corpse was still warm on the ground, lying in the puddle of his own blood, before Malekith beckoned for her. Armoured form of the king of Dark Elves stood before her, his golden mask unchanged and passive. It was as if looking at a statue, but she knew better to entertain such stupid thoughts. Slowly, the one-handed woman sheathed her sword and approached her liege with slow steps. Her wounds were still fresh on her face from her little bout with the Black Captain, yet it didn’t bother her, after the loss of her sword-hand, Airene thought that these injuries were merely scrapes at best and at worst, another mark of her loyalty to her liege.

“Feeling pity?” came the jest from the Bride of Khaine, who still held the head of Airene’s most famous victim. The crone had slightly tilted her head, yet not made any move to encroach on the sword length rule. The Dachau of Clar Karond shook her head and masking her own slight exhaustion laughed exasperatedly.

“Nothing so pathetic at all” Airene sheathed her sword and flexed her gauntleted fingers of her remaining arm “Just wondering how much work it’ll take to weed out my new garden”

At this little remark, the Crone’s age withered face flashed the younger woman a smile “Ah yes, gardening is such a fine hobby, however I lack the patience and would much rather harvest the crops and then sort them out”

“Yes, alas your passion for gardening extents mostly to your neighbours” the one armed woman spoke as with the corner of her eye she saw most of the others had left the room, save for Felheart and Darkhand, who both seemed to avoid each other- Dread captain standing in the malicious shadow of the throne room, while the Krakenlord hovered around the windows like a ghost, unwelcome and out of place.

“Now that you mentioned it” Hellebron scratched her chin “You do have a new garden, don’t you?” she neared the owner of Clar Karond, coming dangerously close to the sword’s reach “Would you mind terribly if my gardeners would trim the city? So much unnecessary chaff to be used to secure Khaine’s favour”

Airene refused to take a step back, despite shivers running down her spine imagining the Blood Night spilling over her new fiefdom, subjects put to sword, slaves boiled alive in the revolting cauldrons while the city would suffer months after the calamitous celebration. Shaking her head, the Dreadlady offered a fake smile back to the wizened old crone.

“I shall send a messenger to the temple if such celebration will be in order, your Excellency” the Dreadlady, nay Dachau, offered her platitudes to the Priestess, who nodded, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword.

“Do remember that if your sister has the King’s attention, she will surely have also that of his mother’s” And she needed powerful allies if she was to thrive in the court, for Morathi was a force to be reckoned with and only her own debauchery and study of magic was what kept her from taking a much more active role in the politics of the Druchii.

The white-haired elven woman knew that she was outmanoeuvred now and any help she could get would ensure her continued survival against the Hag Queen.

“On the other hand, our subjects would enjoy seeing celebration after the previous Dachau had not treated his subjects well” she spared another look at the corpse and she needed not to see that Hellebron had a smile on her face.

“Splendid, Lady Gloamhart” she croaked “Whenever you have settled in, please let the temple know. I’m sure they will find it a source of celebration”

“As you say Your Excellency” Airene nodded, but soon found the Khainite having left her presence, leaving the parting shot

“Till Khaine sends me your way, Lady Gloamhart. I see dear Lohkir wanting to speak with you” turning around she saw the other elf, looking uncomfortable, crimson eyes gazing at her from the mask’s holes.

Fuck, what did he want? Still this was an opportunity to repair…something and so the elf took a deep breath and approached the Corsair Lord, who now looked very much like a deer in caught by a pack of Cold Ones.

“Lady Gloamhart” Lohkir bowed to her new status and to Airene the scene before her was surreal. How the two of them had changed these past decades. She did not know what happened to him after his father’s death and yet here they were, little more than strangers. It was she who decided to seize the initiative as after all this day was hers, was it not?

“Lohkir” she addressed him casually, seeing the red eyes widen under the mask “How have you been this whole time?”

His mask betrayed no emotion, but his smile could be heard in his voice.

“I could ask the same of you, Dachau of Clar Karond. After I left for Lustria, you had given up on courtly life and enlisted in the Naval Academy. Now look at you, killed the fiend Alith Anar, secured your sister an engagement to the King himself! I should be asking the questions instead of you!”

It almost seemed like they were just old friends instead of a snubbed fiancé, whose engagement had been severed due to his own exile and her father’s ambitions. They had actually gotten along rather well, much to her despair when she had been informed of the change, but that had been years ago.

Lohkir having noticed her thoughtful look on her face waved an armoured gauntlet trying to placate the younger elfin woman “Do not regret that it did not come to pass, I’m still here, but I fear that you have set your sights on another, one who I couldn’t challenge without losing my own head” he said, rubbing the back of his helm, still confident in his pose.

The dots immediately connected in her mind and Airene laughed earnestly at the ludicrous proposition and the more hilarious insinuation that he had made. Seemingly Lohkir had achieved his mission and his posture relaxed. Did she really seek Malekith’s favour as ardently as her sister, of course not, but the thought was so implausible that it deserved merit on her own, but alone in her chambers with enough vine and perhaps a slave girl to entertain her.

“I knew that sailors loved their jokes, but since when did you become such a jester, maybe I was hesitant in rejecting you then”

Behind them Kouran silently slunk behind the shadow of the throne and two Black Guardsmen took his place. Not noticing the sudden shift in the atmosphere of the room, Lohkir shook his head and let out a laugh that reminded her little more of a hydra’s wheezing.

“We both knew it wouldn’t have worked; besides I am happy with what I have” he actually sounded smug and Airene somehow didn’t believe him.

“Oh, I bet sailing and plundering hasn’t lost its splendour to you, has it?” she asked and the Squidface actually nodded. Disgusting thought entered her head, after all she had seen how low destitute corsairs would stoop to, even fucking those shaved apes, instead of their own kin. During her short tenure as a Dreadlady she had once caught an especially disgusting deviant, seduced by a dwarven woman. Could it be that Lohkir had fallen to such sin?

“Please, tell me that you do not partake in the merchandise” she looked at him and the Corsair Lord blinked.

“What?” the word came out choked and his eyes widened, before narrowing “Just what exactly are you implying, Airene?”

“I am certain, that you have found a respectable new bride and not-”

“Not fucking my own slaves?” The male elf asked incredulously and shook his head “Do you know where these humans have been? I can’t believe that you forgot how dirty they were when captured. While any suitable matches haven’t appeared, I do as any young noble does and visit the Temple of Hekharti on a shore leave, or purchase a slave girl of the Asur stock, but the decree of the King is to be obeyed. Well it was, but our position has it’s benefits.”

Airene nodded, she knew of the law Malekith had put in motion after healing from braving the Realms of Daemons that emancipated every Asur, Asrai slave if they swore fealty to him, being put through heavy filtration camps and indoctrinated to serve the Druchii. This of course made the raids on the Asur less profitable. However there still were Elven slaves, but most technically counted prisoners and indentured servants and thus subjects of the Crown. Each prisoner could be leased for a proper sum from the Crown and now only the affluent and influential could afford pleasure slaves like in the olden times, the rest of the Druchii were stuck to the temples of Hekharti and the markets, where humans and other species could still be bought and sold like cattle.

“I see” her doubts eased, Lady Gloamhart remembered that her own stock was to be declared, for while some Shadow warriors had perished during the victorious trek back, they had captured enough to be sold to the Crown. Funnily enough now that she was a Dachau, she owned them.

“As much fun was it to meet you after all these years, I believe that your duty has just begun and running a city is not easy. Take care and congratulate your sister from me.”

“You know, Malekith might take it as an insinuation that you have ‘known’ my sister” she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows and Lohkir stood there mortified.

“I’d never! Besides His Majesty enjoys some of my tales from my raids as he was once a great explorer himself.” He cut back, but she knew, that he was insulted. However, the tales of Malekith the Witch King as an explorer was something new to her, maybe her sister would know more, being enamoured with the King as she was.

“I was just joking, but I will do as you bid. It was pleasant to see you once again. Oh how much have we grown, haven’t we…”

“Too true, Airene, I wish you all of the success and caution that comes with the station, but I really must take my leave”

“Take care, Lohkir” was the words she bid to the Corsair lord and it would be many years until she would see him again, but the image of three children playing with wooden swords in the snow was all she needed from the memories.

It was clear that he had moved on and now she had no regrets in the beginning of her rule. The sound of metal boots of the guardsmen alerted her that it was time to proceed with assuming her new office.

“Lady Gloamhart” the leftmost said with his face being obscured by a black chainmail veil “King Malekith is predisposed at the moment, but His Highness gave us explicit orders to deliver you to the forge that the preliminary sketches of your gift to be made”

The knowledge that there was a forge in the Black Tower was not a foreign thought, but certainly a queer one as She had seen no dark smoke of the forges coming from the Tower. However where else would the Witch King turn to for the repairs of his armour if not the temples of Vaul, who were staunch supporters of the blighted usurpers. The tale of Hotek the Loyal was not a foreign one to most Druchii nobles, but the idea that Malekith had someone like that in his employ.

“Lead the way then” she said “The sooner we are done with this, the sooner I can stake my claim to Clar Karond, lest any think that they can have anarchy there.”

With that she was led through another adjacent chamber and hallways, through passages she didn’t know existed- only to be escorted into a small room with glowing crystals and levers that pulsed with violet and green light. The door closed and the two guardsmen took a crystal each and the room descended. She had no thoughts what to expect of the forge, but when with a slow rumble the descent was halted, she was ushered out of the chambers by the Black guard, who remained standing outside the entrance.

“Further on is the King’s armoury, enter with haste. The smiths grow weary.” came the almost bored voice of the guard and Airene scowled at the insinuation that she was being late. Shaking her head, she paid the guards no mind and proceeded through the hallway to door guarded by four guardsmen, though clad in crimson and carrying heavy war hammers, on their breast a sigil of Vaul alongside Khaine was etched as a reminder of their loyalty that was first to their nation, then their craft. Seeing the newly promoted Dachau, the keepers of the Forge saluted her with a single bang of hammers against their plate mail, which the woman returned with a small nod, not willing to antagonize anyone before she had left for Clar Karond. The Witch King’s favour could be fickle indeed and she wanted not to experience his wrath.

Creaking slowly the door opened, bathing her face in glorious orange and revealing her the to the world of fire and forges. Scores of armoured mannequins in shape of Witch King’s legions while more weapons of all shapes and sizes hung from the wall, while in the centre of the hall a giant forge roared, heat and smoke disappearing in grated vents that disappeared into the walls. So that was how Malekith heated his hall, such ingenuity surprised her, but what was more surprising was the smith that was hammering on a still hot blade, before cooling it in a nearby bucket, without trepidation as hot steam blew around him.

“Ah, so Malekith sends his latest pet” Grumbled the greying Elf as he put the unfinished blade back on the anvil “You are late child.”

Airene was taken aback. Not because he was telling the truth, but with such brazenness it was told as it was customary to the Dark Elves often to be as vague as possible when making such insults as Malekith had a very clear position on braggarts and the weak. However, she could not offer an insult back, for the smith, whom she thought to be a smith of Vaul’s , was already three swords length ahead of her, marching towards a secluded chamber. The Dreadlady didn’t want to disappoint Malekith’s generosity so she followed the ancient elf, cursing him inside her head and imagining all sorts of dreadful punishments to befall him. Starting with the removal of nails and

They ended up in a modest study, full of dusty tomes, strange weapons and of course a roaring fireplace. Only then she saw the old elf fully, without the blaze of the forge and steam from the cooling iron. His hair was in full silver glow and a face weathered by age and scars that ran across his face, deep brown eyes held steel in them, but the smith’s body spoke of surrender and submission.

“I thought most smith-priests of Vaul rejected Malekith” the woman pondered aloud as she sat in the chair as the other elf took note of her remaining arm. Her comment seemingly not rousing any attention, curious she continued her prodding.

“And wasn’t Hotek the last smith of the order, who selflessly crafted Malekith’s own armour and suffered ignoble death at the hand of Asur assassins?”

“Move” the smith grumbled and shoved a piece of parchment underneath her arm, magic dancing along the lines of her missing hand, webs of iron dust rising from the previous contours crystalizing the replica of her hand in mid-air.

Most magic she had seen in her life woven by her sister was that of practicality and destruction, lightning bolts and tongues of flame or deadly winds, but it was interesting that Malekith would allow another male sorcerer to live especially with the edict that restricted magic in men.

“Like Vaul, it is my duty to forge weapons for my enemy, so that my people will triumph over a greater evil” a long sigh escaped his lips after such explanation and yet Airene felt no pity for the elf. After all he was in the service of the rightful Phoenix King and to serve him personally was one of the greatest honours one could achieve in their lifetime.

“I understand that you came in King Malekith’s service unwillingly, but I’m more interested in the how, for Smith-priests of Vaul have officially sided with the traitors infesting Ulthuan”

“How crass and impatient” The smith rose from his seat with a heavy sigh and walked over to another table, before picking up a second roll of parchment and quills “It will cost you more than an arm to continue on this path”

While she considered herself to be rather open minded for her kindred and the sibling who inherited the brains in the family, but she had her limits. How dared this withering elf, who spent hammering at the Black Guards armoury for ages speak of sacrifices, of heartbreak, when she and her sister had given so much to succeed.

“At least I shall have lived proudly and freely, not in this forge wasting away-”

“Yet you have no true freedom, for the Witch King has bound you with chains much unbreakable than mine” the Smith interrupted her continuing to draw on the parchment, unaware that the Dreadlady was currently reaching for one of her daggers strapped to her left thigh. So they sat in silence, the elder elf working, while the younger one tried to think of an insult grave enough, so that smith would know his place- beneath the sister of Malekith’s future bride.

“Leave child, your hand will be delivered when finished. I wish not to gaze upon your stubbornness any longer, you and your King are truly matched”

“Fine, Master Smith, but mark my words” A dagger found itself embedded in one of the bookshelves, narrowly missing the ancient elf’s face, while the smirk on the woman’s face told of her victory in gaining the last word.

So without any more thoughts given to the smith, she turned around and leisurely left the forge, old elve’s eyes still following her until she was gone from his sight. Raising his hand, the dagger flew into his grasp and after inspecting the blade a smile crept on his cracked lips.

“Prince Malekith, what peculiar women have you chosen.”

Across the blighted Isles of Nagarythe, a small party was traversing the marshlands. Each of them was dressed in dark greens and browns, while select few of them possessed dark cloaks, what united them were the longbows on their backs and twin swords dangling from their belts. Jumping over an odd fallen tree trunk and brushing the tree branches from their faces, these warriors uttered not a word as the moon of Lileath hung overhead, shining on their path.

A week ago they had reached their word that a Druchii Black Ark was sailing proudly to the ruins of Tor Anlec with no regard for these perilous waters and naturally, sons of Nagarythe could not let such opportunity pass naturally and set up an ambush, but something had gone wrong, for no message had been delivered of their success and the Sons of Shadow King feared the worst. Brushing past the trees, they finally had come upon the Third Ruins of Tor Anlec, the third attempt at rebuilding by the Witch King ages ago. Now all that remained of the dark stone fortress were scarce outer walls and few watchtowers remained.

“I do not see the Black Ark brothers” one of the scouts whispered quietly as they approached the battlefield, cries of suffering spirits were rampant in this place, a constant reminder of the cruelty inflicted by their treacherous kin. It did not take much for them to imagine just what tortures had been inflicted by the Witch King and his whore of a mother. The eldest of them slightly raised his hand and everyone slowed their run to a crawl

“This does not feel right” the sergeant, who had fought for over three centuries whispered forebodingly and pulled out a spyglass, given to him by a merchant caravan, his men had saved from a small raiding party decades ago.

As his eyes surveyed the ruined fortress, he saw something fluttering in the wind, atop of the tallest remaining spire, even despite the light of the moon, the thing atop of Tower could not be discerned which spelled even more suspicion and danger to the small group of scouts at the feet of the once mighty fortress.

“What should we do sergeant?” one of the scouts asked their grim leader, only to receive a clear signal to advance with caution. With wet grass underneath their boots, the elves, like ghosts, crossed the distance between them and the outer wall. Using grappling hooks and each other’s bodies they scaled the wall with ease, each taking positions along the battlements, bows and arrows ready if a foe was to be lurking in the darkness of the ruin.

“The air here feels wrong” another spoke up after taking the whiff of the air while another replied snidely

“Some scout you are” the offended elf huffed and shook his head, pointing deeper into the what was supposed to be the central hall.

“No, you moron, the bloodshed and suffering feels…fresher here” He explained, and the other rangers smelled the air and while most did not show it, they felt the same revulsion of the slaughter that had occurred here.

“He’s right”

“I can smell it” others joined in, but one look from the sergeant made them all fall silent and proceed further into the depths of the fortress. Black stone singing of death and revenge. While each of the warriors had at least once visited the once proud remains of their capitol to learn their rich and painful history, most did not wish to remain in the proximity of the cursed castle, instead preferring to wander from caravan to caravan, protecting their ancient lands from Druchii scum, who would dare to stake their claim to the land they had betrayed.

So these living shades scoured each nook and cranny of the dour remnants, leaving no corner unchecked, no wall unsearched for newly made secret passages as the conniving shades were to do, leaving only the upper half of the tower itself unchecked, from wherein the Sons of Alith Anar would see further evidence of what had transpired here. Meticulously they ascended onto the upper half of the tower and the younger members turned pale witnessing the mindless suffering inflicted upon their kin.

Stripped off flesh and nailed to walls, these poor souls hung with gaping holes in their bodies, their skins hanged over them, with blasphemous phrases written, as if one would have used a parchment. Their heads were missing, but what disturbed them the most was there was a completely destroyed corpse lying at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a small moon, held towards the sky.

No one said anything, for they knew no words would have mattered now. In their hearts they knew that the mission had been a failure and all that remained was to ascertain their degree of failure. Solemnly they climbed upwards, past the bodies, offering the fallen quiet whispers and an odd sign for the gods to watch over their souls, yet some thought that the worst was yet to come.

Sergeant looked up the tower with trepidation and sheathed his bow, opting to draw a narrow longsword with a raven’s head on pommel. Whatever may have come next , they were ready to face the malice of the Druchii.

Opening the doors, the group was greeted with one last corpse, missing its head and flayed completely, some ravens were pecking it, but soon seeing the elves fled, awfully screeching for interrupting their meal.

There was something different about the corpse and the special way it was desicrated, arcane symbols had been carved in the flesh, capturing the soul and trapping it in the very mockery of a corpse it had inhabited in life. They all had the same opinion, the corpse would be burned in a pyre and it’s soul freed, but the peculiarities didn’t end there. The chest had been broken open and heart taken.

It had been dead for some time already.

Only atop of the tower’s flagpole the Sons of Alith Anar discovered the tragedy that had befallen them, for instead of a single banner or a flag fluttering in the wind, there were two- one abominable standard of the Witch King, the other a flayed skin on which in Eltharin was written plainly:

“ _Line of House Anar ended here. Alith Anar, the self-declared Shadow King died a traitor to his king and Kingdom. Alandrian, Father of High Priestess of Khaine- Hellebron is avenged, Hail King Malekith, Son of Aenarion, King of Nagarythe and the True Phoenix King!_ ”

No one could believe what they saw, even the grim sergeant, who had been apart of thousand battles could not contain his disbelief.

“The Phoenix King will need to hear this.” he muttered, looking at the bloody banner and the skin tossed in the breeze that had appeared as suddenly as the sickening feeling in his stomach after seeing the ghastly message.

“Burn it!” the one-eyed elf pointed at flag flying in the wind, but questions still tormented him.

“But who could have done this?” Malirtar asked to the moon as if expecting Lileath Herself to answer his pleas.


	5. Chapter 4: The King's Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rated R for Druchii  
> Disclaimer: If I did own GW, I wouldn’t be writing this

Lelith dreamt. Magic fuelled her dreams, warping and twisting what were her subconscious thoughts into something much more sinister. Had she been awake, the elven sorceress would have chalked it up to the nature of Dhar and the numerous rituals she had done to ensure her position among the sisterhood that was the sorceresses of Ghrond. Yet she knew that these nightmares were nothing short of her memories of her brief captivity.

In these dreams she was bound with heavy silver chains while her mouth was bound by ropes that bit into the corners of her lips, painfully opening her jaw as her captor stood in front of her, alive and well, without his missing head and flayed skin. In the Shadow King’s hands hung the jagged dagger that had robbed her of her sight.

“Druchii scum” Alith Anar sneered before grasping her chin, his gauntlets biting into her cheeks as he raised the dagger before her eyes.

“Reveal why you have deigned to visit the lands your ilk dared to betray. If so, your death may be swifter, although you deserve far less”

He knew that she could not answer, and she knew that if they were in reversed positions, she would have returned the favour without hesitation. Still she tried to wrest her face away from the inevitable, but the steely grip of the Prince of Nagarythe refused the sorceresses last, desperate attempt of escape.

“Oh no” the Shadow King snarled “I will ensure that Malekith knows, just how much Elves have suffered at the hands of your depraved kin.”

Then without any veneer of civility, he plunged the knife into the sorceress’ eye. In any other ordinary dream, Lelith would have woken up in cold sweat, clutching herself and whispering calming words to reassure her, that this torture was nothing, but an illusion that couldn’t harm the Druchii any more as the head of this traitor was now mounted in Malekith’s private study.

Still she felt the pain and her vision darkened. The raven-haired sorceress tried with all her might call upon D’har, but the winds refused to heed her. With a sickening squelch the knife was withdrawn, as what was left of her ruined eye was pulled out of it’s socket, causing another painful scream.

“Eye for an eye” he held what was once her eye in her face and threw on the ground- squashing it underneath his boot. Around him the faceless interrogators laughed and jeered about her predicament and despite the pain- Lelith knew that if she was free, they would sing a different tune.

However, awful she looked in her binds, the Dark Elf sorceress had enough of pride left, staring at these wretches with nothing, but absolute and indescribable hatred, only surpassed by the frothing madwomen of Khaine’s clergy.

“Druchii scum, I will show you the fruits of your betrayal!” Alith Anar thundered, eyes narrowed and his warriors growing silent. The dagger was raised high up, ready to blind her. Lady Gloamhart of the Crooked Spire knew that this was only the beginning. Defiantly she looked in his eyes, promising never ending tortures and agony for the Asur, who stared back- eyes empty of anything, but hatred.

As her vision vanished into black, the sorceress awoke.

With laboured breath, she bolted upright and through the morning rays of light, found herself staring at the interior of an unfamiliar room. Looking around the room, the sorceress found it spartan, yet opulent in its décor. From the right- rich, dark violet drapes with golden fringes, begrudgingly let the scant rays of dawn illuminate the room. In front of the bed laid a skin of a ferocious white bear, far North, while few choice trophies adorned the walls, to the left an impressive mirror hung with doors to what she assumed was the wardrobe. Through the scrutiny of the room, Lelith realized that her bed was far larger than it was required for a single person. This made her wonder, just where she was laying. Her thoughts flew to the Witch King and her last words bid with him and the subsequent collapse. Then a question appeared in her mind:

How could she see?!

Trying to blink, she found that her eyelids were brushing against something smooth. Tears appeared in the corner of her eyes at thought of seeing again.Immediately she jumped out of her bed and rushed over to the mirror and grasping her face, fell down in front of the mirror, unwilling to believe what she could actually see again. Closing and opening her eyes again and again, the elf couldn’t believe for in place of her ruined eyes, two neat emerald orbs rested in them. She could clearly see that it was an excellent craftsmanship and the glyphs etched, where Iris could be were truly spectacular, yet unlike her previous eyes, Lelith could not see the winds and their movements as if they were cut off from her entire being.

Through her learned magic, Lady Gloamhart tried to see through the baubles, but instead her vision vanished, leaving only the subdued witch sight, where the only thing certain, was the souls in the palace. Immediately the psychic backlash forced her to touch her chest as images of excess flashed before her very eyes. Bodies of sorceresses, witch elves even the scarred sisters of slaughter had left their imprints and deeds done, yet two signatures stood out from the rest in this imprint. If the lesser sorceresses barely registered as wisps of magic energy in their forms, then the images of Malekith and Morathi were as clear as day. The truth of many rumours had been revealed to her and the young sorceress had conflicting thoughts on the matter.

Now she knew, to whom belonged these chambers, in which she found herself in. Shocked by the revelation of one of the most disputable conspiracies of their people, she slumped down on the cold floor, trying to process her information. At the same time, Lelith tried to return her sight. Drawing out the magic from her prosthetic eyes, the vision slowly returned. Slowly rising, the young woman rested against the mirror as she rose on her feet. Pursing her lips, the slayer of Alith Anar tried once more to focus her new eyes to see both magic and the material world. Once more her efforts were met with ruin as she could alternate between the visions freely, alas the combination failed to merge them successfully.

“I that trust you like your gift” the Witch King rumbled as he had entered the room in those brief moments of blindness. Immediately, the sorceress knelt in front of him, not noticing the lack of decorum.

“Thank you, Your Highness” she spoke softly, while more tears fell onto the floor. As a noblewoman she was above plebeian expressions. If she had been born a commoner or rid of her common sense, she would have rushed to envelop the Witch King in a bone crushing hug. Then undoubtedly get a swift end, for his decision or no, Malekith had not proclaimed his intentions clear.

“Rise Lelith” he beckoned with his gauntleted hand and much to her surprise, he was not wearing his iconic greathelm, instead opting for a hood and his golden mask. Somehow it made him look, more sinister and kinglier as upon the crimson hood a golden crown rested. It was inlaid with gems imbued with arcane power. Looking closer, she realized that she had seen the crown somewhere else before.

“While I profess some calm of seeing your sight repaired, there were some things that could not be returned” Malekith professed, still not letting go of her hand. The grimace of the golden mask shifting in what was to be assumed to be a benevolent cheer.

“I am grateful for these eyes, M’lord. For what you deign a gift, is more than enough for me.” Putting her heart on her chest, the sorceress shook her head, trying not to blush as she held her hand in his.

“Indeed” the King of the Dark Elves, led her out of the chamber and into what could be described as a solar and a hunting lodge. Numerous trophies hung from the wall: mounted heads of beasts and elves, weapons wrested from vanquished foes and in the centre of the collection hung a banner of times long since passed.

“Could it be?!” she gasped, paying no attention to the other contents in the room instead focusing of the blue and white flag, on which a raven fled over a rising moon. It was a weathered thing, torn in places, stained with grime and dried blood, but there was no questioning it-

“My father’s standard” the Witch King admitted proudly as he looked at the weathered cloth “It became my standard once he passed and I strove to do him proud.” the sorcerer’s voice fell quitter as if there was doubt in the settlement

“Yet I do not deserve to wear it in battle, not after what has happened” was the phrase that followed and Lelith’s heart clenched. Her time spent in studying, she had paid long hours to learn of her people’s history and it seemed to have paid off. As his grip on her hand slackened, the sorceress squeezed his hand and took a small breath.

“King Malekith, I am confident, your father would not begrudge you for the failed invasions. Is Ulthuan not the greatest fortress in the world? Yet with only one kingdom you were able to fight an even war with the pretenders and continue to fight against them, until the Sundering”

Hearing these words, the Witch King let go of her hand and the giant fireplace next to them roared to life, burning in a malevolent blaze.

“You knew not what it was then. You know not what happened now” With that he turned away from her, leaving the sorceress alone next to the fireplace.

“My King!” She ran after him with as much grace as she could. “Then tell me!” As the phrase sprung from her lips, Malekith froze and much like a living statue, he turned to her, slowly.

“Your bravery and recklessness know no bounds” the mask had changed to a displeased frown.

“My recklessness allows me to be true!” she cut back, before immediately gasping- her hands covering her mouth in terror.

“Then tell me” came the quiet hiss “Is this recklessness comes from your exploits or some naïve idea that you can comprehend mine, your King’s, thoughts? Tread wisely, sorceress”

“ _There is an inn, a merry old inn  
beneath an old grey hill,  
And there they brew a beer so brown_ _…_ ” Was her reply and Lelith saw Malekith’s mask twist from it’s belligerent look into a much subdued one. As he was waiting for something more. The sorceress knew that she was not a great songstress, but this is where magic came in. Calling upon the winds the sorceress imbued her voice with dark magic and continued her song.

“ _That the Maid in the Moon herself came down  
one night to drink her fill_”

“Where did you find this?” The Witch King asked almost masking his surprise and the sorceress flashed him a smile.

“Was it not one of the songs your highness performed at one of feasts for Snorri Whitebeard?” she asked innocently, resting against one of the bookcases “It was popular in your personal regiment, but such things are lost to history, most often”

“Indeed.” Was the King’s answer, before he resumed his counterattack “How much have you scrounged up of my history before the traitors and the Sundering?”

“I could tell you of the hidden deeds you did, when Bel Shanaar sought to usurp your successes as his own, of how the Princes had another picked as his successor and not you, betraying you threefold, but I profess that you would now better”

Then she paused and not daring to look Malekith’s eyes, almost whispered “And how much it must have hurt.”

Silence between them seemed to drag on and a soft laughter reverberated across the solar. The Witch King was laughing, it was not the vicious and cruel laughter he had used when sentencing entire dynasties to death, nor the dark amusement at an attempted coup, instead it sounded almost light-hearted. Lelith hoped that he was convinced of her loyalty.

“You truly are an honest soul, aren’t you?” through her eyes, the young sorceress knew that she had narrowly escaped an unpleasant fate “I wonder, how someone like you have remained hidden from my eyes” the King was gazing at her, much like a Cold One at an elfin child.

“an older sorceress, named Maia of the Crooked Spire took me as her apprentice after my wows to you, Your Highness”

“I remember your teacher, tell me what has become of the old crone”

“I killed her when I finished my tutelage. Her soul, like that of her predecessors guide the Spire” She said but avoided to mention the fact of just why she had ended the ancient sorceress’ life that day.

“Regretfully, your tower will not have your soul” Said the Son of Aenarion as he looked at the ruptured flag.

“What do you mean, King Malekith?” her arms slumped against her sides and varily, she looked for the signs of Dhar as the Witch King stood motionless. Would he really strike her down here? After all he had done, would he discard her like a rusted tool or a slave long past the age to work. Yet if it was Malekith’s wish, then she would submit to his august judgement. Turning to her, his mask had changed again- portraying a satisfied peace.

“You belong to me, do you not?”

Lelith could only widen her eyes of emerald and nod as she was tempted to grin like a lunatic, nodding her head vigorously.

“Y-Yes!”she cried, wetness blooming in the corners of her eyes “ My King, I am only yours!”

“Good, there is still work for you to do, before you can claim to stand by my side” Malekith had turned to her, in his hands a small ring rested. Surprise radiated from her very being, but she knew that there was a good reason for it. After all she knew that not once assassins had been sent by the traitors on Ulthuan and the Shadow King was merely the tip of the spear aimed the subject of her affection. Lelith refused to let her be the chink in his armour.

“It would reflect poorly if you would choose a mere sorceress as yours, my liege. I won’t disappoint you!” she said, and the Witch King nodded, before a staff- a thing of black iron and crystals floated in his grip from one of the many trophy racks. She couldn’t contain her surprise as he approached her with the rod.

“If your knowledge of history is as vast as you have convinced me, then you will recognize the importance of this gift” with his outstretched hand, the Witch King offered his servant both the ring and the rod. One gift of his promise to her, another a badge of her newfound status. The sorceress could only sputter as she recognized the staff.

“The staff of Feranor? My King, you surely must jest!” there had been another reason why the warlocks were treated so cruelly. What history didn’t mention was that after the Sundering a group of warlocks, led by Feranor of Yvresse, a warlock of no small power had tried to assassinate Malekith, by trying to sabotage the black arks that made Naggarond. His death was attributed to the strain of magic, but her teacher had a magical tome bound in the warlock’s skin.

“If I was fond of Jests, I would recognize Finubar the Gelded as the Phoenix King. This staff and this ring are both tokens of my favour. Use them wisely and I will bequeath you with gifts unimaginable” the King of Druchii handed her the magical foci and watched as she held the staff to her chest, the white crystal ablaze with purple flame. With his hands now free, the sorcerer grabbed Lelith’s hand gently in his, making sure that the claws of his gauntlet wouldn’t harm her milky pale skin. The gold and emerald band between his fingers, the Witch King placed the jewellery on the sorceress’ ring finger. It was beautiful golden thing, and alike to that of what Morathi herself had used to quell the stone dragons.

This time she was not able to contain her glee and with an undisguised happiness enveloped the Witch King in an embrace, her face pressed close to the taller elf’s breastplate. Malekith himself, quietly returned her affections, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she mumbled and hoped that he did not find her unsightly in her behaviour, yet soon they both separated. Lelith withdrawing her arms first. She blushed, unwilling to meet the Witch King’s eyes that shone through the golden mask.

“I trust that it will satisfy you that your further education in magical arts will be split between me and my mother? There is so much to be done, but dealing with schemes and my overbearing mother is time consuming”

Lelith paled at the thought, her recent knowledge on their closeness had painted the Hag Queen in a rather different light. Yet she knew that it was not unheard of, but it was still not looked upon favourably by the common folk and most of the nobility. However, the pleasure cults were a different beast altogether and while she had understood it’s importance in the beginnings, after the Sundering, when morale was non-existent and they found themselves in a hostile land.

“So you will use me to give her a new toy to curb her prying?” while she had rarely bid words with her own mother, the sorceress knew from Airene’s tales that Seleriar Gloamhart was an ornery woman.

“Ha!” The Witch King laughed and shook his head “Despite her faults, she is a most powerful sorceress. Think of this as bonding with your future mother in law.”

“Yes, but-” she was notorious for her overprotectiveness rivalling a Hydra!

“Remember that if your lessons with her will be **solely** of magical nature, then my part will be a more…hands on experience”

Still the raven-haired sorceress thought that in all that this arrangement could have been much worse. The image of Malekith and her alone in various activities was enough for the emerald eyed woman to be grateful of what was happening.

“However, before you think that these will be your only obstacles, be warned that there is another whose approval you must gain.” For Hekharti’s sake! Who else she had to prove herself to?! Then she remembered the words “means justify the ends” and breathed calmly, not wanting to show her emotions on the matter.

“Who is it that who doesn’t believe me?” She asked and now the King’s golden mask had changed to a mirthful grin.

“There is one special girl that wants to meet you…”

Oh, Khaine grant her strength!

“The things I do for love” she muttered, and her beloved had heard her, for his booming laughter echoed in the chambers. Her cheeks flushed crimson; lightning danced on her fingertips. Where was Morathi when you needed her?!


	6. Chapter 5- Embers of ambition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the introduction arc.

“Listen up you maggots” Airene Gloamhart slammed remaining fist onto the table in her planning room atop of “Silent Terror” as her captains and servants all listened with dread. Some noted that their Dreadlady was back in her old spirits, and for better or for worse she intended all the elves gathered here to know, just what was their next set of marching orders. After their last expedition to Nagarythe, changes were inescapable and what self-respecting Druchii wouldn’t seek out a way to capitalize them?

“By the grace of the King I have become the Dachau of Clar Karond and it means new responsibilities, _changes_ in my retinue” if some of her surviving reavers and fresh recruits might have been half listening to the female elf as she began her meeting, now all of them had a single question in their minds- what would happen to the Black Ark? Obviously, she could not keep it for herself and at the very least someone could command the vessel. Another thing was that the city state was one of the biggest shipyards for Malekith’s fleets and that meant heaps of other options to pick from.

“Congratulations, my lady!” one of the younger captains cheered and soon the rest joined in, heaping accolades upon the white-haired elf, who merely nodded with a smile on her lips as the room erupted in jubilation. She was not born yesterday and knew very well who a spy in her ranks was and who was merely out for her head and had begun weaving ambitions of their own. None had been briefed about her arrival, except the small squad of Black Guard sent to chaperone her, not to mention her cadre of assassins, poisoners, and executioners.

Airene nodded to Drazhar on her left, who motioned for the slaves to bring in the wine.

“Thank you, thank you” she said, raising her fleshy hand to placate the wild crowd of raiders “It would not be possible for us to have succeeded in slaying Alith Anar and his raiders, if it weren’t for you, my friends” her purple eyes glimmered as she surveyed the Asur slaves bring the wine in shiny silver goblets. Looking on as they hardly flinched, the warrior smiled and congratulated her choice in hiring a new trainer for her unruly lot, of course they weren’t really slaves, but their debt was too high to be paid this century.

The captains all as one took their goblets of wine, toasted and drank. Out of the corner of her eye she saw few choice individuals looking back at her. They understood, it would be such a shame if all her efforts went to waste.

Clearing her throat, the Dreadlady or rather the Dachau raised her own glass in a toast.

“My friends, here's to beauty, wit, and wine; and to a full stomach, a full purse, and a light heart.” She said and winked to the rest of the men “In the words of Dastan Coldeye, "Meet success like a gentleman and disaster like a man." He was a man of his word. That said let us avoid his fate, instead become only richer, more powerful than in our wildest dreams! “

Airene took a hearty swig and smiled revealing her wine stained teeth as the rest of the corsairs had drank their fill.

It was all cheer and merriment as servants carried in plates with various delicacies- cheeses from Tor Yvresse, grapes from Ellyrion, nuts from Ind, no expenses were too small for this gathering! The one handed warrior’s heart burned for her sister, mostly for worry, but the pirates here required her attention right now. Men and women there enjoyed their fruits of their labour. Too bad most of them wouldn’t live to see it.

“You are far crueller than I thought, my lady” whispered Drazhar and she flashed him a look “Would you rather have me throw them to the furnaces or feed them to the hydras?”

“No, but having them celebrate, while most of their families are being slaughtered…” he trailed off and the Dachau thought that the skull faced helmet was a very convenient so she could not see his eyes.

“You were born from the cauldron, what do you know about family?” he did not deign to grace her with an answer. Instead the Executioner put his hands behind his back. The Dreadlady turned her attention back to her “loyal” servants and continued to smile as if nothing was happening.

Slowly one of the Elves celebrating started to choke. His fellows at first thought that he had merely bit off more than he could chew and some even laughed at this misfortune, before turning into a look of horror. Blood spurt from his nostrils and all pirates immediately turned to her. The executioner and the rest of the bodyguards were prepared to leap in and defend their mistress, but a raised hand forced them in the standstill as the dying captains, saboteurs and merchants pulled their blades free. They tried to take a step forward, yet found their bodies growing number and more tiring to even attempt to lift their weapons.

“I suppose I forgot to inform you that those who have been poisoned were found guilty of treason against my sister and I.” Airene looked at her gleaming arm and flexed her fingers watching with grim satisfaction as her enemies fell, the few loyal captains stood there unmoving- they knew very well that any move made now, would put them in her sights and as Dachau she had much more ways to make her enemies suffer.

“Penalty for this is a swift execution for yourselves and your families” she took another sip from her own glass as she watched them writhe on the ground like worms as the poison did its work. Airene had stolen a shipment of the flasks as the “Silent Terror” had plundered the coasts of Nippon. None had known of its existence, save her and her bodyguard. Lady Gloamhart delighted in the fallen bodies, although not because she had killed, but how beautifully her plan had been woven together. Besides her, the bodyguard, and the rest of her cadre, sheathed their weapons almost without a sound.

With few survivors who ceased to trash on the ground, the servants came in once more and started dragging bodies out of the room, while others opened the windows.

“As for the rest” she looked at those fortunate enough, who had drunk the antidote, looking at her like a one headed hydra “I reward those loyal to me, gentlemen. Your new posts will be sent out after my arrival in Clar Karond. With that I bid you farewell”

The surviving pirates stood there surprised and terrified. Airene didn’t begrudge them this display of weaker emotion, instead she merely waved to them and with a genuine smile on her lips, the former reaver, her bodyguards in tow, left the room. Corpses and those unfortunate enough to have avoided her poisons by luck, cursed her to Ereth Khial and would shudder when asked about her by her superiors. A red haired captain, a new recruit- looked at the closing door and cursed underneath his breath.

His mission would be much harder than he thought.

The Dreadlady of the Silent Terror along her cadre slunk through the hallways to the inner hangars, where her schooner awaited to carry her back to Naggarond, where she had the last bit of business to attend to. Her sword howled for a chance to sink it’s teeth in something.

“Achoo” the sorceress sneezed as she walked through the hallways in the Black Tower, with Malekith beside her, who, despite his tall form, moved particularly slowly. Looking at her King with embarrassment with her unladylike conduct, she found him not paying one bit of attention towards her missteps of etiquette. Then again what they were doing was a breach of etiquette.

Scandalously, she was far closer than within a length of a sword! If Lelith had been anyone else, she would have been flayed alive, but a smile graced her features as Malekith gave her a tour of the palace. Currently they were exploring the one of the upper floors, reserved only for the sovereign’s use and still, she was rather interested, just where the Witch King was taking her.

“So, who is this last obstacle I must brave for my feelings to be recognized as true?” she turned to his armoured form and the taller Elf turned his head to face the raven haired witch.

“Now that would be telling” the King said cryptically and out of the corner of her eye, the sorceress saw Kouran Darkhand appear behind a shadow of the pillar, his halberd raised over a wide shoulder. Almost negligently, if she could describe what she saw.

“As you wish, my liege” she said, refusing to utter the four letter word that would spell her death. Still she was happy as a manticore thrown a live captive “However, while this person remains a mystery, would you enlighten me of where are we heading?”

“Perhaps” Malekith pondered and she could feel his gaze on her body “Our destination is the balcony. Many said that it is an enchanting sight, from there you can see whole of Naggaroth and other great cities if weather allows it. In night time, you can see tongues of the accursed Chaos Realms dancing across sky, beckoning the foolish”

“Oh, do you visit there often?” Lelith asked, but much to her surprise the Witch King shook his head “Not as much as I’d like.” He sighed as they passed one of the statues of Aenarion vanquishing a four headed daemon.

“You see, the matters of kingdom and sorcery keep me barred from most parts of the palace, but I never really could resist to see the sky.” two guardsmen and four massive human slaves awaited at the gargantuan door, iron masks grafted onto their faces. One of them called to the humans and with trained ease and fright the humans turned the huge wheel opening the passage to the King of their enslavers. One of them mistakenly looked in Malekith’s direction and received a swift hit on the back of the head by the butt of the halberds.

She paid not heed to them, though the sorceress felt sorry for them. For who could resist looking at the greatest son of Ulthuan as he approached?

Wind nipped at her ears and she pulled the sable cloak closer around her as Malekith extended his armoured hand to her. Cheeks burning, she gently put her hand in his and the golden mask had shifted into a neutral, if not outright pleased grimace.

Snowflakes caught in her eyes and she blinked, forgetting that she no longer needed to do that and saw his cloak billowing in the gentle wind. Breath caught in her throat, she realized that this was a sight a the rare fortunate saw. This was the son of Aenarion at his kingliest and she had no doubt that her heart hadn’t led her astray.

When the Witch King spoke next, Lelith only realized that for a simple balcony the space was gargantuan, meant to house a platoon if necessary. Just why would have Malekith brought her here?

“ ** _COME SERAPHON!_** ” the sorcerer shouted, winds of magic carrying his words into the mountains “ ** _LET YOUR WINGS ECLIPSE THE SUN AND YOUR CLAWS REND THE EARTH!_** ”

As magic washed over her, the raven haired sorceress felt his eagerness and deep from the Iron Mountains a bestial roar could be heard from the distance and the winds picked up pace, the gentle snowflakes almost biting her face, yet the King’s figure blocked most of the sudden blizzard.

Lelith wondered whether or not Malekith was aware that his helmet gave him a rather…tree-like look.

Deciding not to broach the subject, she wisely stood there silently along with Malekith, who patiently awaited his steed.

“She may be a quite ornery, alas most mothers her age can be” he barked with laughter and incapable of resisting the jewel eyed sorceress imagined the Hag Queen staring down the King’s Dragon. Seeing the ridiculous sight in her head, the young woman couldn’t resist and started giggling, before her eyes widened and hands clasped her mouth shut in horror.

“It is a very apt comparison” the male drawled and she heard behind her someone chime in.

“Indeed sire” Kouran laughed gruffly “However, I think that Seraphon might be outmatched in this peculiar duel”

Another roar pierced the blizzard surrounding the Black Tower and in the distance she could see a black spot approaching from the distance.

“I think she took offence to that” the Witch King spoke with mirth as they stood there awaiting the beast and a small part of Lelith was afraid of what would happen when she would face the beast.

The Beast was legendary, the first hatched from her clutch and had killed all of her siblings. Malekith had seen a violent promise in the beast and like the reputation of her rider, the Black Dragon had become something of a dark omen across Naggaroth as woe would befall those the Black Dragon sought out as prey.

Peculiarly, she never attacked cities, opting to sink ships and attack those dwelling in the forests. More frighteningly, some sorceresses and nobles held the belief that Seraphon was the direct manifestation of the Witch King’s punishment and woe befell those even daring to touch the beast.

Now she was going to face it all alone.

Dread crept up her spine and she was thankful that the dark cloak was enough to hide her trembling form. She stole a look at Malektih, yet the King waited patiently for the beast to approach. Gripping the staff in one hand she awaited and sought the same strength her beloved was known for and waited with all of her strength.

The flying beast was truly humongous both in size of the wingspan, that could reach over a small cruiser, while it’s maw full of daggers was large enough to eat a horse and it’s rider whole, up close it indeed looked like a shadow and she had no issues admitting that she was the most intimidating beast she had seen in her entire life. Letting out a small blast of corrosive acid in the air, the dragon did a loop before their very eyes and plummeted to the balcony.

Lelith stood there paralyzed as the black monstrosity barrelled towards her, yet she knew that she could not appear weak before it. There was no way Malekith would allow this, her life might have still been expendable, but his castle wasn’t. She did not hesitate to assume that the Witch King could make a dragon cover before him. As the dragon drew nearer, she saw her malevolent yellow eyes lock with hers. In the moment she let her magic flow freely and much to her horror she found an intellect to match the fearsome body.

Just outside the balcony, Seraphon unfurled her wings and stopped her descent as she was about to crash in the Black Tower. The sorceress saw Malekith with his arms crossed looking at the dragon, unmoving. Much to her bafflement the beast huffed and as gracefully she could, slowly landed in front of them, sitting up like a giant housecat, her barbed tail hanging over the ledge.

Her giant claws tried not to scratch the black stone underneath, but her attention was solely focused on her master, who nodded to Kouran. The Captain of the Guard had a heavy cloth sack with him, which Lelith had not noticed. The warrior tossed the sack in front of her and she shot a questioning look at the King.

“This noble lady is the Queen of Naggaroth’s dragons, you wouldn’t approach a noble empty handed, now would you?”

“N-No, my lord” she refused to take her eyes off the dragon, who kept eying her like a morsel. Without difficulty she summoned the sack before her and opening it, she noted with disgust that full corpse of a large Northern barbarian was intact in the sack. Focusing her magic, she let the Dhar guide her and carry the corpse before the dragon.

Seraphon looked at it and scoffed, before bent her neck and the body vanished in her gargantuan maw. Just like that a man taller and stockier than her was eaten in less than a minute. Lelith’s fear for the creature in front of her grew, yet she remembered her father’s advice he had given Airene: always appear weak when you can but be strong whenever you must.

With head raised high and the emeralds shining in her eyes, the sorceress approached the dragon. The King’s mount eyed her up and down as she came before it and slowly lowered her long neck that her snout was in front of her. Acidic smoke from her nostrils assaulted the sorceress and she felt the enchantments on her robes push against the miasma. Like any noble audience before royalty, she needed to introduce herself.

“I greet you Seraphon, Queen of Iron Mountains. Winged Terror of the Craven, O Black Beast of Pandemonium! I am Mistress of the Crooked Spire, Lelith Gloamhart, slayer of Alith Anar, a craven traitor to your master and all that is his. Lady Morathi has accepted me-” the dragon snorted, yet the black haired woman persisted “- and I implore you to see if you would also deign me worthy of your master!” she stood still in front of the black dragon, who looked deep in thought.

Suddenly the great beast lurched forward, so fast that Lelith could barely react, her lower teeth almost touching the hem of her shirt.

“ **SERAPHON!** ” Came Malekith’s enraged voice behind her and the dragon immediately retreated her head as the King stepped beside her “ **It seems your vacation in the mountains was _misspent_** ” the Witch King hissed out the last part and the poor dragon looked like it had been kicked. Still beckoned by the a mere nudge of his head, Seraphon laid her head in front of them.

The King of Dark Elves then suddenly grabbed Lelith by hand and pulled her towards the dragon.

“It was a mishap” Malekith didn’t sound apologetic “She is rather jealous and a petty bully if you let her” he said patting the dragon, who blinked her large yellow eyes.

“You were afraid and so she sought to intimidate you”

“Of course, I was afraid, this is the first time I am so close with one of the dragons and believe me she is not the image of benevolence!” Lelith cut back at the dragon and was replied with another snort.

“See, while ill tempered, Seraphon knows that it is most unwise to harm my subjects unless bidden to.” Malekith said as he laid her hand on the Great beast’s cheek.

“I wonder how she gets along with Lady Morathi”

“She doesn’t” was the King’s answer and now Lelith had an inkling behind that reasoning.

“However,” Malekith released her hand and the sorceress continued to stroke the grand beasts’ scales “She does adore Kouran for some reason”

“Oh, I bet” the raven-haired woman bit out and was answered by a purr as she scratched some of the scales “My lord?”

“Yes?” Malekith looked at her

“What was the purpose of this test?” she asked and the Witch King sighed and shook his head. He looked at her with his brilliant green eyes and asked “Is there a reason why I would want you to meet another of my most treasured?”

“No, but-” the ancient elf grabbed her chin with one hand and immediately Lelith let go off Seraphon, a loud and angry whine let everyone know of her irritation, alas Kouran Darkhand was the only one free to coddle the acid spewing monstrosity.

“You passed the test, did you not? Seraphon is an excellent judge of character” his metal claws gently caressed her face and the benevolent visage on the mask was still there. Leaning in closer, their lips were an inch away from one another and Lelith was fully aware that her face was steaming red as she looked in his eyes.

“Her judgement was sound and validated my own thoughts on the matter” he released one hand from her cheek and reached for his facemask “Do not close your eyes”

Lelith’s heart beat faster and faster, almost threatening to tear itself from her chest as the legendary elf removed his facemask. Never in her wildest dreams did she hope for this to happen. Malekith was notorious for having his entire body concealed by the Black armour and the circlet of Iron atop of his brow. She knew of the terrible treachery that had robbed Aenarion’s son of his looks, yet he still chose to reveal himself to her. Did he feel like she had in the throne room, where her lost eyes were revealed to the world?

“Do not stare, Lelith” the Witch King whispered and took off his mask.

His wounds were terrible, what once was fair and rosy skin was a patchwork of burns and scars. Inside she wanted to cry for even despite the scars, Malekith had inherited his parents looks. Aenarion’s chiseled jawline and the shape of Morathi’s alluring eyes. If he was still striking now, then how handsome had he been before the traitor princes had cast him into the flames?

Still grasping her chin, the former Prince of Naggarythe kissed her deeply.

For all her doubts and thoughts before Lelith was paralyzed, her arms while aching to grasp Malekith in a deep embrace and surrender her very being, could only helplessly clench her staff as her beloved deepened their kiss.

Tongues fought for dominance and the sorceress completely lost the track of time.

As the King granted his favour to his future bride to be, on the balcony another person had appeared. Clasping her mouth with her hand, the Dreadlady looked at the scene in bewilderment. There was the feared Witch King of Naggarond, caught in a…loving kiss with her sister, his mask off?

“Lady Gloamhart” Kouran had his halberd raised and behind him and Seraphon looked even more terrifying than she had ever imagined “You saw nothing of what was happening here, right?”

“Y-yes” she tried to keep her composure but lost it as Malekith separated from Lelith and turned to see the intruder, his scarred face for her to see. While the burns were quite severe, Airene wouldn’t hesitate to get those lips on her. Her violet eyes met his and she knew that there would be a hell to pay

However, the sight of the Witch King’s unmasked face was fleeting as the golden mask immediately was latched on his face as he approached her with furious Lelith in tow. So when faced with threat of brutal torture and execution from her liege and her very angry sister, the Dachau of Clar Karond immediately fell on her knees and prostrated herself to the King.

“I would say I am pleased to see you, but would be a lie” he said quietly and Airene dared not to look him in the eye “What brings you here without summons?” he hissed and the Dreadlady could only answer as honestly as she could

“Please my liege” she tried not to beg “I came here solely to see my twin and reassure myself that she is faring well before I leave to my post”

“So why were you not at the Obsidian Table and waiting?” he asked, yet not awaiting an answer barked at her “Nevermind, rise Lady Gloamhart and bid the words with your sister, later Kouran will escort Lelith back to my chambers”

Still she did not dare to rise as Malekith hadn’t finished speaking “It seems we will have to continue our conversation elsewhere.”

By Khaine, Airene had realized that not only her heart had felt hotter. This was a strange predicament, though not an unwelcome one.

“I told you to rise, did I not?” the Witch King asked and slowly Airene Gloamhart rose to her feet, embarrassment clear on her face.

“I was not sure that I had permission, sire” she said, not daring to look at him. However, the Witch King passed her and offered one last bit of advice as he left the two sisters alone

“Those who obey enjoy my patronage much longer than those who do not.”

As Malekith disappeared from the view, the white-haired twin got an elbow in her stomach for her worry as Lelith huffed, her cheeks red with embarrassment and anger

“You pest!” she growled and elbowed the amputee again “You ruined it!

“Ouch!” Airene flailed the stump of her arm “Stop it, you magical savage!”

Kouran merely looked at the balcony and seeing Seraphon take off, motioned for the guards to turn the gates close. He had a long day ahead of him, hopefully the arena would offer some exercise.

As the sisters continued to bicker, Malekith traversed the many passageways to the top of the tower, where his private solar and orb of scrying rested. Opening the doors to the room, Malekith came inside and closed them behind him, laying a hex on the door if someone decided to interrupt him.

He knew that his mother was trying to spy on him, the Witch King felt her magic in the air as they left the balcony. Malekith could deal with her, but what he could not deal with was the inescapable response of Ulthuan.

They had loved Alith Anar, while the real man was little better than a very effective cockroach, with no loyalty, having chosen to side with the arrogant princes. One thing the sorcerer did like in the Elves of Ulthuan, was that they were very predictable and that was why the crimson orb in front of his desk was pulsing and above it a session from the Phoenix Court could be seen. Those infuriating loremasters thought that just because they could thwart his agents, they were safe. Malekith intended to prove them wrong.

Sitting in his plush throne, Malekith picked up a small tray of grapes listened to the meeting. Oh what he wouldn’t give to get anyone of the meeting within his grasp. Even the weakest of princes could make this decade even better than it could have possibly been.

_“Your grace” the regent of Nagarythe, an upstart whose name the Son of Aenarion hadn’t bothered to learn “Alith Anar, the hero and staunch opponent of the Betrayer has perished in a most ignoble of deaths”_

_“This is troubling” Said Finubar the Gelded as he shared the room with at least two men who had bedded his wife “This might give the accursed Druchii and their King the morale boost, was there an inkling of who might have committed this most savage of killing”_

_“No, my grace, but our agents and mages have gathered that this was a planned attack by the Black Ark “Silent Dread” commanded by--”_

“By no one” Malekith smirked, “Silent Terror is an Ark that no longer exists, call her Shadow’s End”

_“No matter” spoke Teclis, whose head had a special spot reserved in the trophy room “We will find whoever did this and when we do, our vengeance will be swift!”_

Let them try, the Witch King’s smile twisted into a sneer as he snapped his fingers and the wizard’s face exploded in the mists. Sadly, the real one was unharmed. He wondered how many years of torture an elf could withstand.

“ _Enough_ ” _shouted Tyrion, slayer of poor Poisonblade “We must act, before we get any ideas-”_

_“And spring whatever trap the Witch King has prepared?! Dragon of Cothique, you truly are the less gifted of the twins” Imrik snarled, clearly upset that their dragons weren’t waking anymore._

_“Why you!?”_

_“Calm down!” thundered Finubar, but that did predictably little “I will not have your petty squabbles disrupt this serious matter!”_

The armoured form of Malekith relaxed in the chair as the meeting between the princes was once more thrown into disarray. Somehow this was more entertaining than watching gladiators fight each other and savage beasts in his name. However, even the Elven politics back home didn’t hold much pleasure to him anymore as something new was pushed in his sights. His black heart, closed off for more than a century was beating again. Looking back at his lovers and even a wife, thousands of years ago, Malekith found that it beat similarly to a time when his only friend and lover was a young maid he had known before had had been an adult.

She had been a casualty of a Khornate daemon attack and in her footsteps most of his lovers had followed, be it by blades of enemies or by their own treachery. Only his wife had vanished, but to appear before him again would be a death sentence as she had abandoned him when it had mattered the most. However, there was no use in pondering about former loves and treacherous wives. Lelith Gloamhart was a gem that, while scratched had been dropped in his hands by fate. She was like a living memory taken from the deepest recesses of his mind and turned into a terribly innocent sorceress, who possessed enormous potential. Together with her sister she had slain Alith Anar, which was a miracle by itself. Thinking carefully of the future he pondered what other miracles the two would perform for him.

However, there was a slight problem. This problem walked on two legs and no plan survived an encounter with her. Normally if the problem was a living creature, it’s disappearance was a clear solution, yet this time it was not an option. Morathi, like Seraphon knew competition when she saw one, but unlike the Dragon who knew when it was beaten, his mother dearest possessed the tenacity of a hydra. The Witch King willed his magic and through the orb he searched his little sorceress.

Malekith found her laughing merrily with her sister as the gosipped like old women, while poor Kouran suffered a safe distance from them. He promised himself that Lelith’s innocence wouldn’t be extinguished by anyone, for in her he saw a remnant of Naggarythe, for which he and his father had bled in those cursed days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being with me this far. I will return to this at a later date, but I have vowed to myself to finish my original novel. I'm roughly 20% through the first draft, believe in me folks and have a nice day.


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